


Seafood Gumbo, Pickled Pumpkin, And a Pinch of Love

by Trams



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Enemies to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Rivals to Lovers, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-07-06 01:43:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 49,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15875901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trams/pseuds/Trams
Summary: After a scandal that ruined his reputation Goodnight Robicheaux retired from his career as a professional boxer and moved home to Louisiana to open a cajun restaurant.However his quiet life is turned upside down when a fancy new restaurant opens up across the street run by up and coming popular chef Billy Rocks. Sparks fly as the two clash, any potential attraction overshadowed entirely by an instant rivalry.But that is only the beginning as his old life comes back to haunt him, and a threat not only to his restaurant and the life he has built but which also threatens everyone on the street forces the two rivals to work together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic would not exist without fontainebleau who from the beginning when I first had the idea was enthusiastic about it and from that moment has provided support and reassurance, as well as invaluable advice and suggestions whenever I fell into a slump. Thank you. ^^
> 
> And I also need to thank her for running this challenge, you have done an amazing job! I am sorry i wasn't of more assistance to you this last month. Thank you again for doing this. <3

When Goody came back from his morning run he stopped outside his apartment building to lean against the wall, the stone rough under his palm and still cool after the night; the sun was still rising and son the wall would be baking in the Louisiana heat all day. He was panting a little bit; someday he’d stop these early morning runs he supposed, the ache in his joints would be too great for him to motivate continuing, but for now it was still a ritual, a hold over from that earlier life. He went inside and took the steps up to his apartment two at a time, almost colliding with Mr. Davies from the fifth floor and his five yorkshire terriers.

After a shower, breakfast and a change of clothes he was back outside again and started walking to work. It was only two blocks to his restaurant, and early enough to miss the worst of the sun and humidity outdoors.

He walked past the building across the street from his restaurant. The three story building was under new management and had been under renovation for the past few months. When Goody first opened his place the building had house a quaint little cafe on the bottom floor; after it closed down a music store had opened for a while; then for a time a massage parlor that had been an obvious mob front, after it was shut down - the commotion with several police cars, and onlookers had generated a surprising amount of new customers who even returned later - there had been a small shop selling ceramic figures all of which looked like they were possessed by all manner of malevolent spirits. All of this, and Goody had only had his restaurant for two years, he supposed he should be lucky it had lasted so long.

He crossed the street towards his restaurant, a two story building nestled between the taller buildings on each side, a dry cleaners to the left and on the right a pawnshop, both with apartments on the upper floors.

Goody unlocked the front door and then locked it again behind him once inside, they didn’t open until lunch. As such the front room was quiet enough for him to hear the noise in the kitchen, and Faraday singing along to the old radio in the kitchen.

Goody headed towards the back of the room and the door to the kitchen. Weaving between tables scattered through the room. The booths were lined up along the left wall, and the right side of the room had the longer tables, with their long bench seats, and in the center were a bunch of smaller tables, all with the chairs standing on top of them.

In the back corner on the right were the counter with the register, and the second door into the kitchen. On the walls hung framed photos, mostly of various shots of nature, but as he walked past the last booth next to the kitchen door, their unofficial staff table - unofficial because they still seat customers there, but it was always the table he and the others ate at after work - the pictures in the frames were different. He spotted a new one which made him stop. It was another picture of himself, arms raised in victory in the ring. Surrounding it were a few more photos and news paper clippings, all framed. They had started slowly showing up ever since Faraday had started working for him.

He pushed open the door to the kitchen and entered it just as Faraday raised his voice for the chorus of _I Want it That Way_ , where he was standing chopping up salad.

“Take it down,” Goody said, sure that Faraday hadn’t expected him to not notice the new picture. He did smile amused when Faraday flinched in surprise. The man turned around brandishing the knife he was still holding. Goody raised an eyebrow and looked a the kife. Faraday put it down.

“Crushing my artistic dreams so cruelly,” Faraday muttered.

“I wasn’t talking about your singing,” Goody said.

“How come you only encourage Red’s dreams and not mine?” Faraday asked, ignoring Goody’s attempt at correcting him. “It’s because he wants to be a boxer isn’t it?”

There were days - the bad days - when Goody looked at Red and wanted to tell the kid to get out while he could. That it wasn’t worth it, that there were so much more he could be doing with his life. But he kept quiet, knowing his own bitter anger had poisoned his thoughts and feelings. It wouldn’t be right to tell their waiter what to do with his life.

“You don’t dream of being a musician,” Goody said.

“How’d you know?” Faraday said, but he was grinning and turning back to the lettuce.

“Because if you wanted to be one, you would tell me. You have a weir compulsion to tell me everything, not caring if anyone actually wants to know.”

Faraday chuckled.

“Fair point.”

Goody washed his hands, pulled on a pair of gloves and joined Faraday in the prep work.

~*~

They closed early on Tuesdays, it was a slow day anyway. The lunch crowd thin, and the evening crowd even thinner. That was the excuse he had used, though he suspected Faraday saw through it. Goody felt bad enough about making the man work three weekends every month, only able to pay for someone else to come in one weekend a month to let Faraday have some time off.

After the last group had left for the evening, Goody locked the front door and picked up the broom to start sweeping, Red was clearing away the cushions from the bench seats, and in the kitchen Faraday was cleaning up while at the same time preparing something for them to eat before they all parted ways for the evening. In their staff booth sat Sam drinking a glass of coke and eyeing the newest picture on the wall with curiosity. Sam wasn’t a part of the staff, but he had helped Goody with the money to start the restaurant, and more importantly he was a friend.

Goody had just finished sweeping and dropped down in the booth opposite from Sam, when Faraday stepped into the doorway and shouted, “Food’s ready!”

Red hurried towards the kitchen while Goody closed his eyes, and tipped his head back letting out a sigh. His stomach was suddenly growling at him. He never felt hungry when he was working, but as soon as he sat down he was reminded that he was starving.

Faraday and red came back out carrying six plates which were unceremoniously dumped on the table, before they pushed Sam and Goody to move away from the edge of the booth so that they could sit down and start wolfing down food.

“You hear what’s opening up across the street?” Sam asked and took a bite from his plate. Goody shook his head. Pulling his own plate closer to him and away from Faraday who sat next to him.

“New restaurant,” Sam said after swallowing and making an appreciative noise, which made Faraday preen, and Goody huffed out an amused noise. “One of those fancy ones,” Sam continued. Goody frowned.

“A fancy place?” Faraday asked, still with food in his mouth. “Here?” He sounded disbelieving, and Goody was inclined to feel the same way. It wasn’t the most upscale of neighborhoods.

“Don’t ask me why they’ve picked this street, how should I know,” Sam said. Taking a drink of his beer before continuing. “Apparently it’s that chef Billy Rocks.”

“Who?” Goody asked, and hit Faraday’s fork with his own when it descended on his food. Faraday made a pitiful whine, Goody glanced at him and the already empty plate in front of the man.

“Swallow your food first,” Goody muttered.

“How haven’t you heard of him?” Sam asked. “You work in the food industry.”

Goody shrugged at Sam, then pushed his own plate to Faraday and took one of the extra plates. He wasn’t sure why Faraday could never take one of them, but he suspected it was just an innate need to steal food.

“He’s an up and coming chef, already has two restaurants which are enormously popular.”

“Hm…” Goody hummed. 

“No need to worry yet,” Faraday said.

“Seriously stop talking with your mouth full,” Red said. “I sit on the other side of you.” He turned to Goody. “He’s right though, no need to start fretting yet.”

“I’m not going to fret,” Goody protested. But it was a hollow protest.

Sam changed the subject to Red’s upcoming fight in a few weeks, and Faraday started pestering Red with questions.

Once they had finished off all the food Sam and Red let themselves be shooed out of the restaurant and Faraday helped Goody put everything into the dishwasher.

“You should get going,” Faraday said. “I’ll stay until it’s finished.”

“No, you go ahead,” Goody said. “I’m sure Maria is waiting for you.”

Faraday made a face.

“We broke up.”

“Oh,” Goody said. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you said that when I told you two weeks ago.”

Goody closed his eyes, scrunching them together and he turned his face away. A wave of guilt and shame burning through him.

“I’m sorry,” Goody said. “I... I forgot.”

_‘I forgot_ ’ two words that had been all too frequent. Even being reminded of it he still couldn’t remember Faraday telling him. Joined with the shame was another feeling, something heavier and colder.

“Hey,” Faraday said. Hand landing on Goody’s shoulder and he opened his eyes and looked at him. “It’s okay,” Faraday said. Smiling a little bit. “I know…” He bit his bottom lip. “I know how it is.”

“Still, I am sorry,” Goody said.

“Don’t worry,” Faraday said, and started grinning. “Next weekend I’m off I have a date with this woman Adele. I’m gonna be fine.”

“Yeah you are, now get out of here,” Goody said. 

He was left alone with only the dishwasher’s low rumbling filling the air which was slowly cooling down. He walked through the kitchen making sure all the stoves were turned off, even though he knew they would be.

He walked back out into the front room, all the lights had been turned off with only the light from the round windows in the kitchen doors, and the street lights outside illuminating the tables.

Goody liked the quiet, the stillness and calm of his restaurant at rest. He liked his restaurant, that was the thing. It had been a refuge, it was his retirement plan, work here until he died, but he also just genuinely liked it. He liked making food, it was a way of giving people something, something pleasurable that would make people happy.

He didn’t want this taken away from him. He looked through the large windows at the front of the room, and out across the street at the other building. It had just been a silent, unassuming building before, but now it seemed like a looming shadow.

Shaking himself he walked back into the kitchen and took the trash out through the backdoor into the alley, and tossed it into the dumpster. Back in the kitchen the dishwasher beeped. Goody pulled out the clean dishes and started drying off the plates, hot from the warm water but he didn’t care.

He put away the dishes, turned off the dishwasher, and turned off the lamps before leaving, reminding himself to lock the door.

The evening air was still warm even after the sun had gone down, but it was still a pleasurable walk back home. He had to wait outside leaning against the wall, which was retaining some warmth from the day, while Mr. Davies tried to convince all of his yorkies that they wanted to come inside, two of them remained unconvinced for ten minutes.

Eventually he made it up to his apartment, where he made a cup of tea and sat down in front of his computer.

He googled Billy Rocks, finding some articles about the man’s fusion food and how he’d been inspired by nouvelle cuisine; and a lot of reviews praising his food and skill and ability to make ingredients that by all right shouldn’t work together actually come together in a harmonious mix. He also found some interviews with the man where all his answers were monosyllabic and Goody got the impression that the man was intensely private and thus cultivating a mysterious persona. He wondered if that was helping him. 

Then he ran across newer interviews after the second restaurant opened, which were conducted with a spokesperson for Billy Rocks, someone named Emma Cullen. The answers still didn’t say much about who Billy was, just focused on the restaurant and his plans for it. Based on what he could find, successful was definitely the right word for this man, and Goody couldn’t help worrying a little.

Taking a couple of drinks of his tea, he typed Goodnight Robicheaux into the search bar. Curious what kinds of articles could now be found about him, if they all were at least three years old. He knew this Billy Rocks wasn’t going to google his name, he probably didn’t even know he was opening across the street from another restaurant, much less who it was run by.

The first result was a wikipedia article - actually having a wikipedia page was something he had never gotten used to. Scrolling down most of it seemed to be about the scandal; and reports of his announcement to leave boxing. If any of the articles brought up that he now ran a restaurant it was nothing more than a footnote, and most didn’t even have a mention of it.

Scrolling a little further down he even found the very rudimentary website for his restaurant: Kajun Kitchen. Though all of his guests usually ended up calling it _Goody’s_ and he considered if maybe he should just embrace it and at least put it somewhere on the website.

He had been concerned, that people much like Faraday would put two and two together, but to his surprise people rarely knew that their chef used to be a professional boxer once upon a time.

Boxing had been part of his life for so long, much longer than he had ever been cooking, and yet that part of his identity felt so much more distant. He was a chef, running a small restaurant that he was proud of. He wasn’t some big shot chef opening his third restaurant, but he had loyal guests, people who came by often and those who came by every once in a while. Everyone on the street came by regularly. He had built something here, something he never could have built before.

Boxing hadn’t been a passion, it had been what he fell into. Or rather what Sam dragged him into. Back when Goody was an angry scrappy teen, sure he’d turned twenty, but age didn’t automatically make you feel like an adult. He had gotten into fights a lot, never starting them, and rarely finishing them. He didn’t know right away why Sam had taken him in, it wasn’t like he was promising greatness lying on the ground after having his face and chest pummeled by fists and boots. Sam had found him on the street, had helped patch up his scrapes, and then instead of telling Goody off for fighting had taught him how to hold his fists, how to protect his face, how to throw a punch.

Sam had been Goody’s coach and mentor for the first years, and then Goody had moved into professional boxing, and moved on to other different coaches. He never forgot the lessons Sam had taught him however, except for the big ones, spotting those who only cared to use him; and knowing when to quit.

He backspaced and returned to the search on Billy Rocks, and saw the article about him opening a third restaurant: _“Eunjangdo”_ Goody looked at the name for a while, wondering what it could mean. Not just literally, but also what it all would mean for this new life he had carved out for himself, his stomach churning with unease.

~*~

His restaurant had second floor, accessed by a staircase on the side of the building most of the second floor was an open stone patio, It did have a small indoor area, which Goody mostly used as storage and sometimes office. He had had plans on using the space as an outdoor seating area, but hadn’t gotten around to fixing it up for that. They usually just pulled a few tables outside on the pavement in front of the restaurant.

There was one table up there on the roof and a blue parasol standing near the not even waist high stone wall that was the railing. Goody had gone up there on his break, leaving the kitchen duties to Faraday while they waited for the dinner crowd.

Goody had planned on getting some tedious paperwork done, and while he did have the papers lying on the wooden table top, he had gotten distracted watching the people across the street moving furniture inside the new restaurant. According to the papers Eunjangdo had its opening date set next week.

Worry and anxiety had been gnawing away in the pit of his stomach, but he’d tried to not let it show too much.

The movers continued to carry table after table inside. The other restaurant would be a much bigger place than Goody’s, it was a larger building and they had bought out most of it. Goody glanced around himself. Perhaps he should set up something out here too? He might need a second waiter if he did.

He shook his head. He needed to calm down, what was the use in worrying. The other restaurant hadn’t opened yet, perhaps there wouldn’t be any major changes at all.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Billy looked up at the sign saying _‘Eunjangdo’_ in the late afternoon sun. It was the day before the opening of his third restaurant and this had been the first time he had time to look at the restaurant, unable to micro manage due to being too busy at the second restaurant organizing everything and making sure his sous-chef and now the executive chef there Matthew Cullen would have everything under control. He had probably wished Billy would have gone to Eunjangdo to micromanage, but hadn’t said anything. Billy hadn’t needed to micromanage Eunjangdo anyway; the interior designer Emma had hired had done a great job, and the place had been set up exactly how he wanted it; it was ready to open.

He turned to Vasquez standing next to him discovering that he was looking in the opposite direction. Billy turned around. Across the street apartment buildings flanked a smaller restaurant.

“Kajun Kitchen,” Billy read the large writing on the windows.

“Certainly clear and obvious about what it is,” Vasquez said with a grin. “Unlike the name you chose.”

“Oh shut up,” Billy muttered.

Billy had met Vaquez back when they were both line cooks in the same place, and kept in touch after moving on to different restaurants and better opportunities. Both of them travelling all over the world working and gathering inspiration, while exchanging emails. Billy had wanted Vasquez to work with him both when he opened his first restaurant and for his second, but Vasquez had been unavailable both times, this time however everything had lined up perfectly.

The door across the street opened and two men walked out turning in the doorway to call out: “Hey, Red! Tell Goody it was delicious as always!” before letting the door close and they walked down the pavement past the dry cleaner next door to the restaurant.

“Should we check out our competition?” Vasquez asked, turning to Billy.

“Sure,” Billy said.

“You know, I don’t think I asked you, but why are we opening here of all places?” Vasquez asked. It was his first time at the site as well. Having flown in the evening before, Billy had picked him up at the airport on his way driving to the hotel they’d be staying at for another couple of days. “I’ve read the articles, and I know what we are setting up here. This isn’t the area I was picturing.”

“It was Harp,” Another voice joined them as Emma came through the door and joined them on the pavement. “He’d gotten a good deal on this building.”

Billy had only been 28 when Harp discovered him working as a sous-chef at a restaurant in Dallas. Harp used to be somebody, having sponsored several up and coming chefs in the past, but hadn’t been having a lot of success for a while before he met Billy and offered to sponsor Billy’s first restaurant, when it was a hit he had organized everything surrounding the opening of the second restaurant, and then took care of the logistics for the third one.

“You up for some cajun food?” Vasquez asked Emma, “we’re in Louisiana after all.”

Billy’s first two restaurants had been in Texas where he had grown up after moving there when he was ten. One in Dallas and the other in Houston. His first in Dallas an intimate small and exclusive place with only a few tables, and a long waiting list. Billy had been in charge of hiring the replacement chefs when he moved to Houston - though he tried to come back occasionally to cook for a week or two - and had decided it would feature a lot of young up and coming chefs, getting a month each to do whatever they wanted as long as it was innovative and experimental, and Billy always looked over the menus. Houston was larger and closer in concept to what Eunjangdo would be, but highlighting slightly different ingredients.

“Sure, let me just put these in the car,” Emma said, indicating the pile of papers she was carrying and Billy nodded.

“I’ll get us a table,” he said and the others nodded.

He walked across the quiet street and in through the door, where he was met with a wall of people speaking or laughing. It was smaller than his restaurant, but a bit bigger than his first restaurant, and with most of the tables occupied. A young native american man, the waiter Billy guessed, with hair cropped short and the sides of his head shaved, was clearing away dishes from one of the booths to Billy’s left, but he paused and called out “I’ll be with you in a moment!” when Billy entered, and then carried off the dishes towards the kitchen.

Billy walked slowly past the tables looking around curiously. From the ceiling hung lamps that looked like old kerosene lamps but with lightbulbs that gave off a soft golden light rather than anything bright; on the table were small oil lamps with the lit wicks providing another small source of light. There were framed pictures and shelves on the walls; the pictures photos, most of landscapes and nature but a few vintage photos as well with a sepia tone; the shelves were loaded with all manner of the sort of knick-knacks Billy associated with garage sales. There were painted metal tins, some just painted in different bright colors, others with different kinds of motives, all of them in different sizes and shapes. There were figurines of animals - a lot of alligators - in a variety of materials anything from ceramic to tin, One shelf had three alligators carved out of wood painted in different colors - blue, red and yellow. Below the counter stood another alligator, this one knee height standing on two hind legs, and its tail, painted bright green. He also spotted some plates with pictures on them. It was a cluttered space, with no structure or sense of organization, the complete opposite to minimalism, and Billy got the feeling that nothing about the decor had actually been planned. He wondered if the things he saw did in fact come from various garage sales - it would explain the variety. This was a restaurant no interior designer had ever set their foot in.

The waiter came back through the kitchen door, wiping his hands on his apron and walking towards Billy, but when he lifted his gaze and spotted Billy his step faltered, eyes narrowing in what Billy could only interpret as recognition, but also slight suspicion, which he felt he did not warrant, there was nothing auspicious about him.

“Aren’t you the guy opening the place across the street?” The waiter asked, stopping next to the counter a foot away from where Billy was standing.

“Um, yes, how-”

The guy gave him an unimpressed look.

“I know how to use google,” he said, and Billy had been told often that he was difficult to read emotion and feelings off of, but he was sure this guy was even more difficult. “Your picture is online.”

“Ah, yeah,” Billy said. “That makes sense.” Before either of them could say anything else, the door opened. Billy looked over his shoulder at Vasquez and Emma entering, both of them looking around curious like Billy had, and he turned back to the waiter.

“We’d like a table for three.”

“Sure,” the waiter said, grabbing three menus off the counter and pointing at the corner booth next to the kitchen door.

They all sat down, Emma and Billy facing the kitchen door, with Billy on the edge of the booth’s seat, and Vasquez taking up all the space on the seat with his back to the kitchen door. They were given their menus and the waiter hurried over to another table ready to pay their bill.

Billy started looking through the menu, it was all dishes he expected to see, nothing very surprising and pretty much identical to the menus he’d seen in other cajun restaurants. Having decided to go with the seafood gumbo, he looked around at where they were sitting. The framed pictures on the wall next to them and above Vasquez head were different than from the rest of the restaurant, here there seemed to be more pictures of one man in particular, a young boxer, a picture of him in the middle of a fight; a few of the man celebrating after a fight arms raised in victory; a couple of framed newspaper articles, one in particular with a large picture of a man grinning and vivid blue eyes staring into the camera, another picture of the man above an article, crooked grin and with an equally crooked tooth, an article with the headline ‘The Angel of Death Strikes Again.’

The waiter walked past them into the kitchen and as the door swung open, Billy spotted a man inside who could possibly be the same man as the one in the pictures. The man now had a neatly trimmed beard - and Billy noted with some disapproval how he wasn’t wearing a beard net, had he worked in Billy’s restaurant he would have demanded he shave it off - wearing a black baseball cap with a gold fleur-de-lis rather than a hair net.

They ordered and while they waited for the food - the smells coming out of the kitchen were mouth-watering and Billy was starting to feel rather hungry - he pulled out his phone and did a google search for ‘the angel of death’ and after disregarding some irrelevant results found the name of the boxer given that epithet: Goodnight Robicheaux, which Billy thought also sounded like a made up name.

There were a lot of _‘Angel of Death Goodnight Robicheaux announces his retirement’_ -results and he had to click on a few before he found one that was just a text article and not a video of the press conference where Goodnight had made his announcement. A lot of them also brought up a scandal.

“What are you reading?” Emma asked curious and looking at Billy’s phone.

“The guy running this restaurant,” Billy said in a low voice, not wanting to draw attention, and pointed at the wall above Vasquez. “He used to be a boxer.”

“Oh,” Vasquez said craning his next to look at the photos. “Wasn’t he discovered to have thrown a couple of matches and betting on them?”

“You know about him?” Billy asked surprised. Vasquez turned back with a shrug.

“My cousin mentioned him.”

“He actually do it?” Billy asked. All the articles kept saying using the word ‘allegedly’ about what he was suspected of doing.

“They didn’t find any evidence of it,” Vasquez said. “As far as they could find out the money he should have won never ended up in his hands, and they couldn’t find any evidence of an offshore account, which he swore he didn’t have anyway. The thing was, he never swore that he didn’t throw those matches.”

Billy looked back down at his phone, in the photo of Robicheaux at the press conference announcing his retirement, nine months after the scandal, he looked gaunt and there was something haunted and sad in his eyes. When he looked through the door opening that hauntedness seemed far gone, as did the gaunt look, instead he was a smiling man with some crows feet around his eyes.

Their discussion halted by the arrival of their food. The plate of seafood gumbo placed in front of Billy smelled amazing even if it didn’t look anything special, all of it just thrown together on the plate with no garnish. The taste however was far from mediocre; rich and seasoned to perfection Billy’s eyes closed involuntary and he let out a pleased sound that surprised even himself. The restaurant and the food was old fashioned no doubt about it, but it tasted amazing he could decide after only a few bites.

“This is amazing,” Emma mumbled between forkfuls of the jambalaya which had been served on the plate looking like a mountain of rice, sausage - the same smoked sausage was in Billy’s gumbo as well along with the trout and crawfish - chicken and prawns, and Billy wondered if people ever actually managed to finish their food considering the portion sizes.

He looked over at Vasquez and his fried catfish. Vasquez nodded enthusiastically mouth stuffed with fish he said: “This is great.”

Billy nodded and broke off a bit of his cornbread dipping it in the gumbo. It really did taste great, and he felt full to bursting way before he had finished it and soon was leaned back in the booth, eyes closed and groaning a little. Ema was sprawled out against his side and whining about wanting to eat more but not being able to eat anymore. Vasquez having finished his own food was using his fork to steal bites from both Emma’s and Billy’s plates.

“He sure can cook this ex-boxer,” Vasquez said, and Billy hummed in agreement.

It had seemed a bit unexpected and strange someone going from professional boxer to chef, but while the man seemed a bit old fashioned based on the food and the decor, and apparently felt that a beard would be perfectly okay to just flaunt in the kitchen, he sure knew how to cook and season is food to taste perfect. He wasn’t sure how successful Robicheaux had been as a boxer - but apparently decent enough to gain the name ‘Angel of Death’ - cooking seemed more like the man’s calling.

Billy had discovered that cooking was his calling when he was much younger. He had been a lonely kid, having a hard time making friends - if he was honest he hadn’t really gotten much better at it; Vasquez was his friend because Vasquez had decided they were friends, it was definitely not thanks to anything Billy had done - a lot of kids thinking he was aloof and standoff-ish, when in actuality he was just shy and quiet. It wasn’t something he’d managed to train himself out of either. Emma had been hired specifically because as he grew more famous he needed someone else to speak for him - all her other responsibilities had been added later including the raised salary - since he never felt comfortable doing it. Looking up Robicheaux he had seen some early interviews with the man and apparently he had no problem talking. At least before the scandal.

Billy didn’t know this Goodnight Robicheaux, but from all he had learned this evening, it would seem like the two of them didn’t have much in common. The door to the kitchen opened again and Billy happened to look that way, catching a glimpse of Robicheaux with his head thrown back, eyes closed and laughing at something his sous-chef must have said - a man Billy only saw the back of - and the sound of the man’s laughter reached Billy’s ears, and there was a surprising burst of warmth in his chest. Before he could think about it he was distracted by Vasquez. “Dessert?” the man said.

“How can you even think about eating more?” Billy asked baffled, while the kitchen door swung close again.

“I want their white chocolate bread pudding,” Emma said. BIlly turned to give her an incredulous look.

“What?” She asked. “There’s always room for dessert.”

They ended up getting dessert all three of them. Vasquez a slice of cake of some kind and Billy settling for a beignet.

~*~

Billy and Vasquez had spent the day running through all the prep with the line cooks and assistants to make sure everything would run smoothly once the guests started to arrive. Thanks to all the publicity Emma had been doing leading up to opening night they had been fully booked weeks in advance.

Billy had just finished checking the containers with different flowers at his station, the last thing on his list before opening, when Emma sidled up to him announcing that Harp had arrived.

He dusted off his hands on a towel and walked out into the other room, where Harp was standing looking out the window. The man looked a lot thinner than he had done the first time Billy met him.

“I’ve been calling you,” Billy said getting Harp’s attention. He turned around and Billy levelled him with a look, he wasn’t going to bother asking if he had been avoiding Billy’s calls, the fact that Emma had acted as a go-between for weeks by this point was answer enough, especially when not even she got the answers to Billy’s questions from the man.

“Busy,” Harp said. “You know how it is.”

Harp had suggested opening the third restaurant ‘You have to continue to grow kid if you want to stay relevant.’ Billy hated whenever he called him kid, but he put up with it with clenched teeth and an expression of civility. He had agreed to expand though, Harp had found the location and after that been impossible to contact.

“Why here?” Billy asked, he had tried to get a satisfactory answer to this question for weeks now. “I don’t fit in on this street.”

“I got a really good deal though,” Harp said

“Considering my reputation and the success of my other two restaurants that doesn’t exactly make it seem like it should be a big concern,” Billy said. He wasn’t one for boasting about his success, but when it came down to it, he was successful. There were big expensive cars starting to park by the curb, it was half an hour until the first guests would be seated. The cars looked markedly out of place on the street near old beat up cars, the contrast was quite stark.

However before Harp answered he spotted Vasquez and shouted Vasquez name calling him over.

“How does it feel joining Billy here?” Harp asked.

“Great,” Vasquez said with his customary grin, resting a companionable arm across Billy’s shoulders. “Been wanting to work with him again for years now, even better now that we get to do all the bossing around.”

The conversation meandered for another couple of minutes before Emma showed up and dragged Harp off to her office to look over some papers. Vasquez left to talk to the waiters and their maître d' about the evening, and Billy returned to the kitchen.

Billy owed Harp a lot, and as such probably shouldn’t question him, but it just didn’t make sense for this to be the street he opened the restaurant. He tried to push it from his mind though, he had an opening to focus on, and preparing food. Cooking always helped clearing his mind when it felt like he had too many thoughts jumping around and he didn’t know what to focus on.

In fact cooking had been a refuge in many ways. Being a lonely kid there hadn’t been much filling his evenings once he was done with the homework, and because his mother worked late he had started cooking. He’d discovered it was a lot more fun than he expected once he had started getting the hang of it, and he could start experimenting, thinking of the recipes as more of guidelines rather than something he had to follow to the letter.

He experimented with ingredients a lot; had a lot of failed dishes but also some surprising successes. Cooking became an outlet for him, a way of expressing himself which he couldn’t easily do with other people.

He was 14 when he decided he would one day enroll in culinary school and then he spent all his time working with that goal in mind. He got in and at first chafed at following rules, after spending so much time pushing or outright breaking them it felt confining, but it was pointed out to him by one of the few teacher who seemed to truly believe in him, that once he understood the rules he would be better at breaking them.

He experimented with taste, smell, colors and shape. He played around with combinations, seeing which ones worked and which ones didn’t, sometimes those that worked were unexpected and on paper sounded like they shouldn’t work, and the opposite sometimes held true for the combinations that didn’t work. He put his own personal and unique twist to everything he made. Paying little attention to those who didn’t believe in him, and listening intently to the people who took an interest in him. He’d learned from an early age how to spot the people who were genuine and those who were merely pretending. And remembering that he couldn’t help wondering if Harp had turned into someone who was merely pretending. But he didn’t know why yet.

Vasquez returned to the kitchen breaking Billy out of his thinking and as he announced that it was ten minutes left the whole kitchen became a flurry of activity and Billy was swept along with it, all other thoughts disappearing.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Goody was ladling up gumbo on a plate when the door to the kitchen opened and Sam, blatantly disregarding Goody’s rules as always, stepped inside followed by Teddy.

“What have I said about barging into my kitchen?” Goody asked Sam without looking at him, instead handing the plates to Red who headed towards the door, Sam and Teddy sidestepping to get out of his way.

“Evening Goody,” Sam said, and walked up to him while Goody wiped his hands on the towel hanging from the pocket of his apron. “We are going across the street,” Sam said and grabbed Goody’s wrist.

“I’m sorry, what?” Goody said, shrugging off Sam’s hand. He thought he would have remembered saying he wanted to try the food of his new rival.

“They’ve been open for a week, it’s time. It’ll be good for you,” Sam said. “I even brought Teddy here to fill in for you.”

“I don’t-” Goody started.

“Go,” Faraday said, coming out of the pantry carrying a bag of corn flour.

“You can’t just do this you know,” Goody said turning to Sam.

“I did invest some money into this restaurant,” Sam said and did that serene thing with his face, like he had never in his whole life done anything mean or petty, certainly never pushed another coach into a fountain, or made Goody run ten miles carrying a bag of rocks because Goody had maybe had a few too many beers the night before a fight.

“You are a terrible person and I hate you,” Goody said, but slipped the apron over his head and tossed it at Teddy. Sam grinned.

“I still have a mean right hook,” Goody muttered, it did not make Sam smile any less.

He ended up trailing after Sam across the street and into the other restaurant where a woman impeccably dressed in a well fitted suit asked them about reservations and Sam pulled out that extra charming smile he had hidden away behind that rough and tough exterior.

“Yes, Chisolm,” Sam said.

Goody looked around the restaurant as they were escorted towards their table. The renovations had opened up the place, the ceiling much higher now, with the tall windows and sheer white curtains hanging in front of them with fairy lights cascading down each curtain. Bare brick walls had been painted a creamy white color, and screens formed a line along the wall at the other end of the room and up the dark stairs to the mezzanine level, the screens showing moving footage of mountains of all things; along the dark wood floor ran a white carpet. Tables covered in white tablecloths with dove-grey runners and strings of fairy lights on every table; there wasn’t a single empty table Goody noted. All the tables lining up against the windows to the right of the door. From the door straight forward were a corridor leading to the back, a sign with an arrow pointing towards the toilets at the back, the kitchen was closest to the front room, and while the doors to the kitchen were in the corridor ahead, half of the wall facing out to the front room, had been opened so that people could look inside the kitchen. A man with dark hair was standing in the opening, but Goody didn’t get a good look before Sam grabbed his sleeve and dragged him forward.

They climbed the stairs up to the the mezzanine level where there were even more tables, once again all of them occupied except for one which they were led to.

“What about menus?” Goody asked when the woman just left them there at the table.

“I already ordered when I made the reservation.”

“Why?” Goody asked narrowing his eyes.

“To avoid the kind of fuss you would kick up otherwise.”

Goody let out a huff and looked around again.

“This place is way too fancy for us,” Goody said. “I’m surprised they let us inside.” He should probably have been a little quieter, because a woman at a nearby table turned and looked at him with an appraising look which turned disapproving. Goody smiled and gave her a cheery wave, she turned back to her meal.

Goody let Sam handle the sommelier and the choice of wine, Goody preferred beer. He did sip the wine though and it wasn’t too bad. He glanced up at Sam who was looking at him with a strange expression, something calculating or assessing, over his wine glass.

“This isn’t just a nice meal between two friends is it?” Goody asked Sam at least had the decency to look down and away as he put down the glass and let out a short laugh.

“No, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Sam said, expression turning more concerned and Goody knew the words before they even left Sam’s lips. “How are you?”

“I’m fine Sam,” Goody said, crossing his arms, then realizing it made him seem too defensive, uncrossed them and had no idea what to do with them. He picked up his glass again. “I’m fine,” he said again, sounding a little more neutral.

“It’s been two years,” Goody said. “The restaurant’s been good to me.” Sam smiled.

“I always thought you would go into teaching, you’d be a good coach.”

“You don’t know that,” Goody protested, and then shrugged. “It’s still the fall back plan though, in case the restaurant goes belly up.” He was glad it had worked out, he didn’t want to be a coach, and he didn’t think anyone would want him as their coach, they’d be scrutinized to hell and back by everyone around them, no it was better to have left that whole world behind him.

Sam nodded and took another sip of his wine.

“McCann is in town,” Sam said. Goody froze with his glass against his lips for a second before lowering it again, swallowing hard and looking at the tablecloth; there was a pattern, a slightly different shade closer to grey in the fabric.

“How do you know?”

“Saw him talking to one of Red’s friends outside the gym.”

“You chase him off?”

“Left before I got outside,” Sam said.

“Why is he always poaching your fighters?”

“I don’t know that it’s personal, I think he just takes the best ones.”

Goody looked up at him.

“Yes, you were the best,” Sam said, indulgently. Goody couldn’t help preening a little at that, apparently not subtle enough however since Sam added: “Red’s better.” Goody shot him a quick annoyed look before getting back to the topic.

“You think he’s approached Red?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said with a sigh.

“Have you talked to Red?”

“What can I say to him Goody? No matter how I phrase it it will seem like I am trying to control him.” He looked at Goody, and it took him a moment to parse out the unsaid in his expression.

“No,” Goody said. “I have even less of a right to talk to the kid.”

“But you can tell him,” Sam said. “Tell him what happened.”

“He knows what happened.”

“Yeah, but…” And Goody interrupted him before he finished with ‘not the whole story’. Sam was the only one who knew the whole story, and Goody was fine with that.

“He’s a smart kid,” Goody said. “Smarter than me. He’s not going to do what I did.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of the food, two very small plates one for each of them, and Goody could just stare with wide confused eyes until the waiter left and Goody looked up at Sam.

“What the hell?” Goody asked in a hissed whisper.

“I knew you’d say that,” Sam said with a knowing smile. “You never went to any fancy restaurants when you were rich and famous?”

Sam knew very well that Goody had never been extremely rich or famous, at least not before it all went to hell.

“I lived on chicken and broccoli as you very well know.” 

He looked down at the plate, no bigger than his hand, again. Long thin slices of a yellowish-orange vegetable had been rolled up into three little towers standing in the middle of the plate, placed with some distance from each other, in front of them was what Goody suspected a ham of some kind which had also been rolled into a tube shape but was lying down. Leaning against the roll of ham was two strange looking things, a white vegetable of some kind sliced so papery thin it was almost see-through which had been shaped into a small three pointed thing, and Goody could see something dark inside of it. Along a quarter of the plates edge where tiny little dots of some sort of red paste substance, evenly spaced out. Two green scallions were crossed the tapered off ends of them leaning on the middle of the unidentified vegetable tower and the other ends of them resting on the edge of the plate.

“What is it?” Goody asked.

“Prosciutto, pickled pumpkin,” Sam started and Goody looked up and saw he was reading something from his phone. Goody reached out and plucked it from his hand.

“You order through this app,” Sam said and tried to point at his phone screen. Goody batted his hand away.

“Prosciutto, pickled pumpkin, red bean paste.” He paused, frowned and looked up at Sam. “Hazel flowers?”

“I was curious about those too, I assume it’s those,” Sam said and pointed at the white things, and Goody could sort of see how they could be called flowers, though he thought they looked a little bit more like those fidget spinners, but then flowers sounded better probably. “There’s an explanation if you scroll down.” He reached out for his phone again. Goody batted his hand away again, he was 12 years younger than Sam he knew how to use a smartphone.

“Korean radish, hazelnut paste and bits of hazelnut,” Goody read, mumbling it out loud. He handed back Sam’s phone and picked up one of the hazel flowers with his fingers and bit into it. The radish had been softened, hazelnut paste spread out over it before being wrapped around tiny bits of hazelnut in the middle and in each of the three pointed ends. Goody bit into it and found it actually didn’t taste too bad, a bit weird but not in any way disgusting. He looked back at Sam who was giving him a look.

“What?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to eat with your hands,” Sam said. Goody stuffed the rest of the flower into his mouth and licked the tip of his fingers even though it wasn’t necessary, and then looked at Sam’s plate.

“So what did you get?”

There were two scallops on Sam’s plate, lying on top of three slices of lotus root and two slices of radish, Korean again Goody assumed. The vegetables creating a circle with the radish in between the lotus roots. On top of the scallops was a white foam.

“Scallops, beetroot,” Sam said. The beetroot was in the shape of a long string which had been coiled on top of the scallops. “Pickled lychee.” Two fruits were lying at the edge of the plate opposite each other. “And ocean foam.”

Goody gave Sam a very questioning glance. Sam shrugged.

“I don’t know, it just says it’s based on mussels and oysters.”

Goody shook his head.

“Gimme that,” he said and grabbed Sam’s phone. “I need to order another plate, this is nowhere near enough food.”

“It might be good for you,” Sam said. “You aren’t in the shape you used to be.”

Goody glared at Sam and started scrolling through the menu. Eyes widening as he read the options, he wasn’t going to admit it to Sam, but perhaps it had been a good idea that Goody hadn’t been allowed to see the menu beforehand.

He picked something that didn’t sound too crazy and then picked up his fork, stabbing the roll of ham and cramming it all into his mouth.

“I could go back in the ring any day and beat everyone in your gym,” Goody muttered.

“You’re talking with food in your mouth,” Sam said, slicing into one of his scallops. “Faraday has been a terrible influence on you.”

Goody ignored that and continued eating. He found to his surprise that he quite liked the pickled pumpkin, there was a tang to it and the red bean paste was sweet and balanced it out nicely.

His next plate arrived, a small - too small - cube of salmon mousse in the middle of the plate next to one quarter of a guava fruit which had a red powder sprinkled on the flesh of the fruit. In front of the salmon and fruit was a green smear going from the right side of the plate to the left, which Goody assumed was the avocado cream. A similar red smear, but this one from top to bottom then had to be the tamarind sauce. Lemon and orange rind were artfully placed on top of the salmon and guava. Goody lifted up the lemon rind, it seemed to be just one long continuous piece, made by a machine Goody assumed, if it was by hand he’d have to be at least a little bit impressed.

“I assume I am not supposed to eat this?” Goody said.

“Probably not,” Sam said, and then pointed with his fork at something else on Goody’s plate. “That on the other hand I think you are supposed to eat. A single red flower in between the salmon and the guava.

Goody frowned, but he pushed aside the lemon and orange rind, ignoring the flower for the moment took a forkful of the salmon mousse. It was nice, really nice and his next forkful he dragged experimentally through the avocado cream, and the last forkful in the tamarind sauce. The guava had been liberally sprinkled with a chili powder and Goody really wished there had been more quarters of it, because it was a really good combination. He did eat the flower before finishing and decided that he really didn’t like eating flowers.

Goody insisted on dessert. His plate held two strawberries cut open in spirals with chunks of chocolate pushed in between the layers, one white chocolate the other dark chocolate. A smear of sweet red bean paste, half a passion fruit and a yellow flower. He gave the flower to Sam who had also gotten a dessert. Three walnut cookies filled with red bean paste, walnuts lining a quarter of the plate’s edge, and two sauces in perfect small circles that almost touched, one a strawberry sauce and the other passion fruit.

While Sam dealt with the bill Goody went to the bathroom, on the way there glancing at the plates arriving at the different tables. There was, he had to admit, something strangely pretty even beautiful about the food arrangement, artful Goody settled on. He didn’t understand it, like with a lot of modernist art, it didn’t make sense to him, but it was still art he supposed. A part of him was a little bit fascinated by it, and yet another part looked at the neat lines and how everything was lined up just so, and the strange combinations of flavours and the only word that came to mind was “pretentious”.

The bathrooms where placed at the end of a corridor that took him past the doors to the kitchen, and when he walked back later he stopped just outside the opening to the corridor gaze caught by movement. The upper half of the kitchen wall was open and beneath it a counter behind a low piece of glass, and there Goody spotted an asian man with dark hair in a bun and a black bandana on his head. Goody didn’t know how many asian men Billy employed, it didn’t have to be Billy Rocks himself, but when the man straightened up Goody recognized him from the photo he had seen of the man, with the sharp cheekbones, clean shaven and with a intense look in his dark eyes. He was chopping something, movements so sure and swift the blade was a blur in Billy’s hand. He finished and lifted his arm, twirling the knife in his hand. Goody felt a strange pull in his stomach, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Intrigued he took a step closer.

“Goody,” Sam’s voice called out, and Goody’s head snapped to the side to see the man waiting by the exit. He didn’t know why but he turned his head back towards Billy and saw Billy had paused and was looking at him. Their eyes met, that intensity focused directly on Goody, and something passed between them, a charge that felt electric. He felt pinned by that intense gaze and it took him another moment to turn and walk away, shaking off the strange feeling that had come over him.

~*~

The fish market wasn’t exactly crowded this early in the morning, but it was still a place bustling with people, and more importantly fresh fish. Goody already had crawfish in the cooler on the cart he was pulling and made his way towards Mike and Jamal. As he got there he noticed Jamal was already busy with another customer, but he didn’t pay him much attention.

“The usual, Mike, thanks,” Goody called out and when the other customer turned his head at that Goody realized it was Rocks. He also at that tim realized they had never actually spoken directly to each other, and Goody felt unsure how to approach it, thankfully Rocks took the initiative.

“Good morning, chef Robicheaux,” Rocks said in a polite but clearly distant tone.

“Good morning, chef Rocks,” Goody replied back his tone carefully neutral to match the other one, while he watched Mike wrap his order of trout and snapper.

“I’ll have some salmon too,” Billy said next to him, and Goody was glancing around at the other fish laid up on crushed ice and his eyes landed on a swordfish.

“I’ll have that swordfish,” Goody said at the same time as Billy said: “And the swordfish.”

Goody turned his head towards Billy and glared at the same time as Billy turned and glared at Goody.

“I was here first,” Billy said and Goody bristled.

“Like hell you were,” Goody muttered. “I’ve been buying fish from Jamal and Mike for years,” only two years, but Billy didn’t know that.

“I meant I was here before you now,” Billy said in that infuriatingly calm and patient tone of voice you used when you thought the person you were talking to was too dumb to understand what you were saying.

“Well, I still think me being a regular customer here should come first,” Goody said, not raising his voice.

“I am a new regular,” Billy said, voice just as annoyingly level and calm but with steely determination in his eyes.

“Hey guys,” Mike interrupted them, Goody and Billy’s heads snapped towards him where he had the swordfish on a cutting board. “I’m just gonna cut it in half, you share it.”

“But-”

“But-”

The cleaver sank into the fish cutting it in two easily. 

Goody huffed out a breath but accepted his fate. Wrapping up his transaction while occasionally glancing at Billy, and feeling the way Billy was shooting daggers at him whenever he wasn’t looking directly at the man.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

While he was working Billy was always too busy to feel hungry, to wrapped up in what he was doing, his hands always moving and his mind running a mile a minute, he was in charge of the kitchen and even if he was standing at his station he would still know what everyone else were doing at their stations. He was surrounded by food all the time all day, and yet never felt that pang of hunger even after a couple of hours, instead if any pain it was that dull throbbing in his feet and an ache in his back from standing for so many hours. And once he was given a break it wasn’t the gnawing and rumbling of an empty stomach he felt, rather it was just his limbs feeling weak that reminded him he hadn’t eaten anything for hours.

Billy usually didn’t go on his break until the lunch rush had been over for a while, the last of his staff to go on break, always accompanied by Vasquez, on the days Vasquez worked the whole day rather than just the evening shift. Most days on Billy and Vasquez’s late afternoon lunch breaks they’d just grab whatever was available in the kitchen and sometimes sit down in Emma’s office to eat, but most days they often just ended up eating in the kitchen. They’d inevitable get interrupted anyway, and had perfected eating and walking standing up while giving instructions over someone’s shoulder.

Back in Billy’s first restaurant he had often eaten together with the rest of the staff after closing, when they would sit together and talk and eat, but as the restaurants grew in size Billy’s staff grew in size as well, and he had never felt comfortable in large groups of people. Of course they all ate together after closing, but Billy usually went home instead, though sometimes he stayed behind, often because Emma or Vasquez had pointed out he was being a bit too aloof, though he didn’t think him sticking around and sitting there in silence only answering questions directed at him, was helping his image a lot. He hoped no one felt he was a bad boss, he was fair during working hours, self aware to know he was a bit of a perfectionist, but at least he was polite about it; as polite as he could be. He tried his best even if he wasn’t the most sociable person.

Billy’s restaurant was mostly empty, the lunch crowd having moved on and there were only a few stragglers left by a table, the rest of the tables had been cleared and cleaned. Floor swept and the kitchen was sparkling clean as always, all of the staff had eaten and were going to start prepping for the evening, it was only Billy and Vasquez left who hadn’t had their break.

It had been a while since the restaurant had opened and Billy had fallen into the regular habit of just grabbing something quick for lunch and heading home for dinner. However the day before he had left before the restaurant on the other side of the street had closed and the smell had wafted out through an open door, and Billy hadn’t been able to stop thinking about gumbo since then. It had been really good he remembered, perfectly seasoned and just thinking about it had him practically salivating, enough to make up his mind to walk across the street.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Goody’s main motivation for choosing the street to open his restaurant on had been because the rent was cheap - Sam’s gym being located further down the street had also been a deciding factor once Goody had started zeroing in on the area. It was a quiet street, sure it was in one of the more run down areas but the people living around the restaurant had happily and quickly welcomed Goody, by now most of his customers were regulars living on the street or the nearby streets. Things had been good, but now when Goody looked out through his window he would see more cars parked along the curb, new expensive models that looked out of place parked next to Mrs Jameson’s 25 year old Ford. 

The street that used to be quiet now saw more traffic, with cars driving past looking for a parking spot; Goody had heard more than one conversation from his customers living nearby about how easy it used to be to park and now they had to drive a whole block away instead of parking right outside their building. 

Along with the cars came more people, all of whom looking like they didn’t have to make decisions based on how cheap it was. There was being comfortable in knowing you earned enough money, and then there was flaunting it, and the people visiting the restaurant across the street all fell into the showing off category. Goody had experienced both ends of it, growing up in wealth until his father lost it all when Goody was ten; though he hadn’t really realized how well off he had been until they lost it.

He wondered if perhaps he was stuck in a cycle of losing and gaining only to lose again. His family shattered and broken he had run away from home as a teen. When he met Sam things had turned around, and ambition had been ignited in his chest for the first time in a long while, only to have that ambition lead him to losing everything he gained. Now here he was again, feeling on top, having lowered his ambitions he had still found success and happiness, would it be taken from him once again?

He didn’t like how dark his thoughts had been of late, how much more difficult it was to get himself out of bed for his morning run. He was a fighter, he wasn’t supposed to just lie down and take it - although his previous manager had thought that was a valid strategy as well.

Across the street he suddenly spotted the cause of his worries. And as chef Rocks started to cross the street Goody couldn’t help saying “is he coming here?” incredulous. Why would he come over to Goody’s restaurant? He suddenly remember the other day with the swordfish and annoyance was growing inside of him. Billy Rocks had probably not even used the fish properly, Goody could imagine how he’d just turned a little bit of it into that strange foam he seemed so fond of, and thrown out the rest. Goody could have at least had use for the whole fish. He took a step forward towards the door mumbling: “I’m going to-” when he was interrupted by Red who was suddenly standing behind him grabbing Goody’s arm, and Goody flinched involuntarily with surprise.

“Go back into the kitchen,” Red said. “We still have customers and the sight of blood from your fist fight may make them lose their appetite.”

“But-” Goody started to protest as Red herded him back into the kitchen.

“Make him stay here,” Red said to Faraday in the kitchen when Goody was pushed inside. “Sit on him if you have to.”

“I wasn’t going to start a fight,” Goody grumbled. Red walked out shaking his head and stood behind the counter wen Billy Rocks came inside.

Goody walked over to the door and tried to make it seem like he just happened to glance through the window so he could see Rocks walk up to the counter.

“What is he doing here?” Goody muttered.

“My guess is he’s buying food,” Faraday said from where he was stirring a new batch of roux, while reading something on his phone. Goody should remind him about how he was supposed to focus on his job, but he was struggling to do so himself at the moment so he let it slide; for now.

“But why?” Goody said, and something suddenly struck him. “What if he’s spying on me?”

“What?” Faraday asked.

“What if he’s going to steal food ideas for his restaurant?” Goody asked getting worked up again he glared through the window. Behind him Faraday started laughing so Goody had turn around and glare at him instead. On the other side of the door Billy Rocks ordered two po’boys to go.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Billy hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the po’boy from Goody’s, it had been a traditional one, with fried shrimp, crab meat, melted butter and hot sauce, nothing remarkable at all in its components, and yet it had tasted absolutely amazing thanks to whatever mix of spices had been used, and Billy very much wanted to try one again, this time maybe trying the one he’d seen on the menu with sausage and roast beef.

It was his motivation for walking through the door to Kajun Kitchen for the second day in a row. The restaurant was mostly empty this late in the afternoon, the lunch crowd already moved on, except for one large man seated at a table, eating jambalaya the smell so enticing it almost made Billy’s mouth water. Billy did a double take and noticed what looked like a tiny alligator head popping up out of a pocket.

He turned towards the counter and spotted Robicheaux behind it, looking into the register, but he looked up at Billy, eyes narrowing.

“You are banned,” Robicheaux said.

“What?” Billy said, bewildered, was this about the swordfish incident? He wondered. Surely it was a bit much to ban him for that. How petty was this man really? Also he hadn’t been banned the day before. He couldn’t see the native american waiter, but he had seemed okay with selling the sandwiches to Billy the day before.

Robicheaux pointed at a chalkboard sign above the counter which read: “no dogs, cats, reptiles, and Billy Rocks.”

Billy bristled a little and pointed at the man currently feeding the alligator in his pocket a piece of chicken.

“What about that alligator?” Billy asked. Robicheaux’s eyes widened slightly and he turned to face the man.

“Jack,” Robicheaux said, with a long suffering sigh. “How many times do I have to tell you not to bring alligator babies into my restaurant?”

Billy was a little bit amazed that this was apparently a recurring thing, so much so that there was a sign.

“I can’t leave her alone at home,” the man, Jack, protested.

“That doesn’t matter, you can’t bring it here,” Robicheaux said, but he was clearly giving it up as a lost fight and turned towards Billy instead.

“You are still banned though.”

“Why?”

“You’ll spy on my food,” Robicheaux said, like that was in any way an answer and reason that made any sense. Billy felt baffled, and also the smells from the kitchen were amazing, and he just wanted some food, that was all he wanted.

“Why would I spy on your food?”

Robicheaux’s eyes narrowed and Billy could see his jaw clench. And Billy realized he’d just put his foot in his mouth.

“Out!” Robicheaux exclaimed and pointed at the door.

Billy decided to beat a hasty retreat. Heading back to his own kitchen, resigned to not having any food.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Alejandro couldn’t quite hide his eagerness when Billy came back the thought of food actually overriding the surprise at how fast Billy had returned. He also couldn’t, and didn’t even try, to hide the way his face fell when he saw Billy was empty handed. He had been looking forward to those po’boys.

“What happened?” Alejandro said, sitting down again on the stool in the corner of the kitchen. Billy slumped down on the other stool with a heavy sigh.

“I’m apparently banned,” Billy said. Alejandro raised a surprised eyebrow. He had to admit he’d been kind of surprised that Billy had been so successful the day before, but he had chalked it up to maybe Goody wasn’t the kind of person to hold grudges, apparently they’d both been wrong.

“Why?” Alejandro asked.

“He thinks I’m spying on his food.”

Alejandro couldn’t help his amused snort.

“That’s ridiculous,” Alejandro said.

“Yes!” Billy exclaimed. “I said as much.”

Alejandro was taken aback for a second and then shot Billy a look.

“You told the man you don’t think his food is good enough to spy on,” Alejandro said.

“I did not,” Billy protested. Alejandro raised an eyebrow at him. Billy sighed. “I may have implied it. But I didn’t mean it like that!” He let his head hang forward.

“Idiota,” Alejandro muttered. “I guess we’ll just have lunch here then,” he said with a sigh.

The next day Alejandro kept catching Billy looking towards the door and towards the restaurant across the street as their lunch break neared; and that evening when the two of them left to walk home caught Billy looking again with a look in his eyes that was just pure longing, and honestly Alejandro would make fun of him, but he was feeling the same things if he was honest with himself.

“It’s just so good,” Billy whined once they had walked past it.

“It could just be wanting something you can’t have,” Alejandro said, without conviction. Billy turned his head to look at him.

“Don’t tell me you don’t also want more.”

Alejandro didn’t answer, just kept walking.

“I don’t even understand why, but it tasted better than any other po’boy I’ve tried,” Billy mumbled. “It’s just a traditional sandwich, there’s nothing special about it, and yet I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I can try tomorrow,” Alejandro said. After a short pause. “They might not know that I work for you.”

“Didn’t their waiter see you when we were there?” Billy asked.

“Yeah, but he might not remember.” He grinned at Billy. “Worth a try right?”

And since Billy agreed Alejandro ended up walking through the door to Kajun Kitchen the next afternoon. The restaurant was empty save for a black man sitting in the booth in the corner next to the kitchen door. Another man was standing behind the counter, brown haired and wearing an apron he had been talking with the man in the booth but focused on Alejandro when he entered, grinning brightly and calling out a welcome. Alejandro knew what Goodnight Robicheaux looked like, and he remembered the native american waiter, but he hadn’t seen the man behind the counter before.

“Hello,” Alejandro said and smiled. “Could I have two po’boys to go? One shrimp and one with roast beef?”

“Sure thing,” the man said. He turned and looked over his shoulder and shouted the order to the kitchen, before facing Alejandro again. “You new here?” he asked while Alejandro paid.

“Moved here recently,” Alejandro said.

“Well you picked the right restaurant,” the man said, “we’re the best in the area.” Alejandro only just managed to hold back a snort at that. The man’s cockiness was kind of amusing, that and either he really had no idea or he did and was just trying to get a rise out of Alejandro. Either way it was kind of amusing and he smiled.

“Oh yeah? What about the one across the street?” Alejandro asked, leaning a hip against a table.

"Haven't tried it, but Goody," the man nodded in the direction of the kitchen, "the boss, says the food there is pretentious."

Alejandro had to cough to cover up the way he almost let out a short laugh. The other man kept talking though and didn't seem to have noticed.

"-but if that's your thing." he shrugged.

"I just like good food," Alejandro said, the most neutral thing to say, after all if he revealed he worked there then he would probably be banned as well. And honestly, it wasn't as if he wasn't aware of what people thought of their food. So Robicheaux calling them pretentious wasn't exactly surprising, and he didn't really feel offended either.

"Good man," the man behind the counter said, reaching out a hand. "Joshua Faraday, but everyone calls me Faraday."

Alejandro took his hand.

"Alejandro Vasquez. Everyone calls me Vasquez. Nice to meet you."

“Nice to meet you,” Faraday said, at the same time as Robicheaux came out with the two sandwiches wrapped up handing them over to Faraday and giving Alejandro a curious glance before heading back into the kitchen.

“Here you go,” Faraday said handing the sandwiches to Alejandro. “Hope to see more of you.”

Alejandro held up the sandwiches and smiled.

“I’m sure you will,” he said before leaving.

Billy barely said thanks when Alejandro handed him the po’boy before he was tearing into the wrapping paper and then taking a big bite. Billy then moaned, eyes closed and a blissful look on his face.

“Seriously,” Alejandro mumbled. Though when he bit into his own he couldn’t really hold back the appreciative noise he made.

They devoured their sandwiches in short order, and while Billy started clearing away the paper, Alejandro decided to share what he had heard just to see the look on Billy’s face.

“I found out chef Robicheaux tells everyone your food is pretentious.”

Billy stopped and gave Alejandro and annoyed look. Alejandro just smiled. It wasn’t the first time Billy had heard that, people didn’t even hesitate to tell it to his face - though they strangely never told him that to his face when he was wielding a knife - and he rarely looked annoyed.

“Pretentious?” Billy asked incredulous. “He has the nerve to call my food pretentious when he’s the one with the hipster beard?”

Alejandro laughed.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Thursday evening before Joshua’s weekend off always came with an implied permission to leave early, but he usually stayed to eat with the others anyway. However this Thursday he had a plan. The place across the street had been open for nearly two weeks and so far Goody had been the only one who had tried it, and Joshua was very curious about it. He’d found out enough from Goody and Sam to know approximately what to expect but he still wanted to see it for himself.

“You’re not staying?” Goody asked as Joshua got rid of his apron.

“Going across the street.”

“Traitor, Goody muttered good naturedly. Joshua grinned.

“Maybe I’ll see if they have any job openings,” Joshua said.

Goody pouted, and Joshua laughed. They both knew it was a joke, there was no way he’d leave, not with everything Goody had done for him.

“See you Monday,” Joshua called out going through the door.

“Have a nice weekend,” Goody called out after him.

The other restaurant, _Eunjangdo -_ and what kind of name was that? - was a lot larger, roomier, with the tall ceilings and brighter lights. He was seated at a corner table next to a window, and feeling a little bit out of place. Even if neither Goody nor Sam looked particularly fancy, though Joshua had seen Goody in his off work clothes and he tended towards flashy perhaps more than strictly fancy, they had an air to them that let them fool people into thinking they were blending in fine in fancier settings.

Goody and Sam had told him all about the app used to order with and he was scrolling through it for a little bit before thinking “screw it” and picked two of the dishes.

He played around on his phone while he waited, and eventually the two plates arrived. The first one he had chosen because it had said it had roasted thigh of rooster, which he’d actually been curious about. The small amount of meat had been cut into slices which was placed in the middle of the plate, on top of the rooster was the vanilla and honey foam, beside it there was a tiny mound of kimchi. Behind the kimchi and rooster along the edge of the plate were three flowers two yellow and a red in between them. Julienned carrots, aubergine and squash were laid out like bars between the flowers and the rest.

Joshua picked up one of the flowers and stared dubiously at it before putting it in his mouth. It tasted very much how he expected a flower to taste. He ate the chicken and kimchi which at least he didn’t have any complaints about.

The second plate had two small cubes of tofu, one with what looked like chocolate icing on top and the other with white icing which blended in with the tofu. The chocolate colored icing also had a small leaf design on it in white, which he realized was the tofu underneath. There was a circle of kidney beans around the tofu cube with chocolate colored icing, and black beans encircled the other tofu cube. Red chili paste had been placed in a line of dots below the tofu and beans, and above tofu were a line of a different paste this one a mix of sesame, garlic and ginger.

The icing he discovered really did taste like cacao and the other one tasted of vanilla, it was a strange experience for his tastebuds he decided, especially with the addition of chili paste, which he dipped the beans in.

After he was finished he went to the bathroom, and walking back a door to the kitchen opened and Joshua bumped into the man walking through it.

“Oh, sorry,” Joshua said.

“Sorry,” said a vaguely familiar voice. Joshua looked up at the Mexican wearing the same white chefs uniform he could see the other chefs through the door wearing, but there was something familiar about this one. It took him another second and then he realized that it was the man, Vasquez he’d met a few days earlier.

“You work here?” Joshua asked, surprised.

“Uh, yeah,” Vasquez said. Putting a hand on the back of his neck. “I’m kind of the sous-chef.” And if Joshua wasn’t replaying the moment he called the restaurant this man was apparently the sous-chef of “pretentious” to his face, he would have made a joke about the _“kinda”_

Someone through the open door suddenly called out, “Vasquez, where are you going?”

“Smoke break!” Vasquez shouted back. Another man Joshua saw through the door, turned around and Joshua recognized him as Billy Rocks.

“You better not!” Rocks shouted. Vasquez turned around, and shouted, “Just joking!”

Joshua took the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat, side stepping and walking around Vasquez and then speed walking towards the exit and pretending not to hear Vasquez shouting for him to wait.

He was halfway through the next block over and had finally convinced himself that it couldn’t be the first time Vasquez heard that his restaurant was pretentious, and the man hadn’t even protested when Joshua said it, so he couldn’t have been too insulted, when his phone suddenly started ringing, surprising him so bad he actually jumped a little. 

Pulling it out and checking the caller I.D he considered ignoring it. It was the first evening of his weekend off, he wanted to relax and have fun, not be reminded of shit from the past. He sighed and answered before he could talk himself out of it.

“Yeah.”

“Josh,” Daniel said, and Joshua could hear the kid’s voice get caught in his throat and he sounded like he’d been crying. “Dad had a heart attack.”

Joshua hated that he reacted to it, that his whole body went cold and he stopped in his tracks. That man wasn’t his father, he’d made that clear the day he walked out on Joshua and his mother to start a new family, it shouldn’t hurt to hear anything about the man. He could hear his half brother Daniel swallowing hard.

“He’s alive, but he’s still in the hospital and they are keeping him for a couple of days.” Joshua hadn’t wanted anything to do with Daniel or his father, but it was difficult to say no to the kid, he was so much like Joshua and at the same time not like him at all.

“He wants to see you.”

Joshua snorted.

“Yeah, sure.”

He wasn’t stepping a foot inside a hospital. His father hadn’t wanted to see Joshua since he was eleven years old, and Joshua hadn’t wanted to see him either. And then there was the other reason.

“I know you-”

“You don’t know shit kid,” Joshua snapped, and then immediately regretted it. Daniel hadn’t spent a year watching his mother fade away in a hospital room.

Daniel was silent. Joshua sighed and started walking again.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s fine,” Daniel said, and Joshua knew it wasn’t fine. “What if,” Daniel started, voice growing quieter and Joshua could hear the held back tears. “What if I want you here?”

Daniel was seventeen, but in this moment he sounded just like the ten year old boy he had been the first time he called Joshua saying he knew Joshua didn’t want anything to do with him, but he had nobody else to talk to.

Joshua exhaled heavily. He wished he could have a drink, but no. No drinks.

“I’ll be there tomorrow, kid.”

So much for his weekend off.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

It was still dark, the first rays of sun barely peeking over the horizon and Goody wanted to roll over in bed and fall back asleep, but instead dragged himself out of bed, got into his running clothes and headed out.

The park lay three blocks from Goody’s apartment building, and he jogged all the way there, past the dark shadows of cars lining the streets, the world grey in the early light. He wasn’t the only one jogging this early in the morning, but it was a very small number of people and dogs there; he met a friendly German Shepherd, probably no more than a year old with ears and paws it still needed to grow into, which he had to stop and greet, letting it lick his hands before its owner finally caught up with the young dog and pulled it away from Goody, all the while apologizing.

He finished his laps in the small park and ran up the many stone steps at one of the park’s exits, stopping at the top of the stairs and panting a little. He’d been to Philadelphia once, way back in the early days, before life spiraled out of control, and early in the morning had run up the steps to the art museum, because of course he had, it had been early enough that thankfully no one had witnessed him. He had been in better shape back then, he reflected now and continued jogging, heading back home for a shower and clean clothes before the walk to the restaurant.

The restaurant was silent when he got there. Goody frowned a little, Faraday usually was the first one in, but he shrugged, it was the first day after the weekend, he probably just overslept a bit.

Goody started on the prep, working faster to do both shares of tasks, and half an hour later called Faraday. There was no answer, so he sent a text message asking him if everything was alright and where he was. He got no response to that either, and got back to work. When Red came into work Faraday still hadn’t shown up.

“He’s been late before,” Goody said, concern gnawing in his stomach. “But he usually gets in touch, and he’s never been this late.”

He had tried calling a few more times but still no reply.

“I’m going to have to call Teddy and as if he can work an extra day,” Goody said.

“You think something’s happened to him?” Red asked while still putting out the cushions on the bench seats. “I could head over and check up on him?”

“That’s nice of you to offer,” Goody said, “but it’s probably better if I go.”

He didn’t know how much Red knew, he was reasonably sure the kid knew at least a little. After all it couldn’t have gone completely unnoticed, but actually seeing it, if what Goody suspected had happened, could and should probably be avoided.

Which was why he ended up outside of Faraday’s apartment building forty minutes later. He had considered waiting until after lunch, but he didn’t want to take the risk that Faraday was lying on his floor bleeding out after falling and hitting his head.

Goody had Faraday’s keys - _“got nobody else to give them to.”_ Faraday had said, voice gruff. _“This way you can water my plants”_ Faraday didn’t have any plants Goody knew that much, and it was for times like this he had gotten the key.

The apartment itself was dark with all the blinds closed, and hot the AC turned off for some reason. Goody had the worrying thought that he would find Faraday half dead from heat stroke, but as he entered the apartment’s living room found the balcony door a little bit open, a breeze wafting in the floor to ceiling curtain hanging in front of it. He then took in the state of the room, it was hot and stuffy and there was a heavy smell of beer, which wasn’t surprising considering the sheer number of open cans on the low coffee table. It looked like he had been drinking almost non-stop the whole weekend. He did spot a pizza box however so at least he hadn’t been completely subsiding on beer.

Goody stepped further into the room and spotted Faraday. Lying on his side on the carpet between the couch and table. Goody hurried forward and knelt down, and put his hand on the man’s neck, feeling the steady pulse, and this close he could hear soft snores. Reassured that the man was just asleep and not in immediate danger Goody walked back out into the kitchen. He opened the blinds in the kitchen letting in some light, and noticed a cactus in a pot, one lonely white flower growing on it, the cactus was new. Goody rummaged through the cabinets until he found a large black garbage back.

He started tidying up, throwing the empty cans into the bag, until Faraday with a louder snore woke up and started to sit up.

“Uh-Whu?” Faraday looked at him with bloodshot eyes, and confusion written clearly on his face. “What are you- Wait, what day is it?”

Goody who had stopped when Faraday woke up let go of the bag and took a step towards him.

“It’s Monday.”

Faraday stared at him for a moment before comprehension set in.

“Oh fuck.”

He pushed himself up using the table but once he let go of it swayed and dropped down heavily in the couch, its springs groaning in protest. Faraday let his head drop forward, cradling it in his hands he groaned.

“I’m so sorry Goody.”

“It happens,” Goody said.

“You here to tell me I’m fired?” Faraday asked.

“Did I say I would fire you if you ever fell off the wagon and missed a day of work?” Goody asked and sat down on the armrest of the couch. “Because if I did I can’t remember it, you know how my memory is.” Goody smiled at him until Faraday looked back at him.

“Like a sieve,” Faraday said and started smiling a little bit. “That terrible memory must come with some serious case of bad judgement, why else would you hire a good for nothing alcoholic ex-con.”

“You were charged with indecent exposure for pissing in an alley,” Goody said. He’d seen Faraday’s record. “You only had to pay a fine. You didn’t even get thrown in jail.”

“Still you’re not a very good example of a boss though are you?” Faraday asked. “Ditching work to come check up on your employees?”

Goody didn’t really know what to say to that, but Faraday continued talking.

“Please tell me you didn’t leave Red alone.”

“Of course not, Teddy could come in today as well. And I got Sam there to overlook it all and make sure my food is still on brand.”

Faraday grinned. “You’re adorable thinking Sam isn’t doing his best to change everything to suit him.”

Goody punched him in the arm and went back to throwing away the cans.

“Seriously, I can do that,” Faraday made a half hearted protest.

“Just order a pizza,” Goody said.

“We not going back for the dinner crowd?” Faraday asked, but he was pulling out his phone.

“You’re not, I want you bright and early at work tomorrow though.” Faraday gave him a mock salut, before holding his phone to his ear. Goody shook his head.

“You wanna talk about it?” Goody asked after Faraday had finished the order, and Goody had gotten rid of all the cans. Faraday looked down and fiddled with his phone.

“I don’t even remember what set it off.”

Goody didn’t know if that was a truth or a lie, and either way he probably didn’t earn to pressure the point.

“When’s the last time you went to a meeting?”

“Couple of months,” Faraday said with a shrug still not looking at Goody.

“I should make sure you get more time off,” he mumbled.

“Not your fault,” Faraday protested. “I can make time to go to a damn meeting.”

Goody decided not to push. It was difficult, not knowing what the right thing to do was.

The pizza arrived and Goody sat down on the couch next to Faraday.

“Thanks for not firing me,” Faraday said, already on his second slice and speaking with his mouth full.

“Of course I wasn’t gonna fire you,” Goody said, “I hate deboning fish.” That made Faraday laugh and Goody joined in as well.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The Tuesday evening after his weekend of stumbling off the wagon and landing face first in a ditch, Joshua shoved a po’boy in Goody’s hands after they’d ushered out the last guests, and told the man to go home and rest, refusing to listen to Goody’s protests. It was the least he could do he figured. He also handed Red a sandwich, and he was a lot easier to convince, but stopped in the door and turned around.

“I just remembered,” he said, and Joshua looked back at him from where he was sweeping the floor. “You know what Mexican guy who comes in almost all the time these days. He asked for you yesterday.”

“Oh.”

“Actually he asked about you on Friday too, and I told him you were off all weekend and not back on Monday. Guess that was why he was asking.”

“And what did you tell him?”

Red shrugged. “The truth of course. That you’d gotten so drunk during the weekend you forgot to come into work.”

Joshua snorted.

“Good night, Faraday,” Red said. “I’m glad Goody didn’t find you dead in your own vomit.”

“Your love for me is palpable,” Joshua said. Red just grinned and left. Joshua shook his head. Considering the Thursday evening it was not surprising Vasquez had asked for him, the man would probably want to talk.

Joshua finished sweeping and the rest of the chores in the front, moving on to the kitchen loading up the first load in the dishwasher and then grabbing a sandwich of his own headed up to the roof.

He sat down on the low wall, leaning against the wall at the other end of the roof from he stairs. Goody had started talking more and more about wanting to open up the rooftop for additional seating. Joshua pulled out a sketchbook with a temporary sketch Goody had made of a layout, which didn’t look much and Joshua in between bites began his own attempt. The real problem would of course be the low wall that was the railing, it was too low to be safe, and they would need to do something about that. And cost was a limit as well, but if they could just agree on a general idea then they could see about the budget.

Joshua was going to be grateful forever for Goody taking him in. It had been a week of disappointing job interviews and three _“sorry we’re not going to hire you”_ -emails on the day he met Goody, and Joshua had been a little too honest, both about himself, but also how he didn’t really think the man’s restaurant looked like much.

“I appreciate your honesty,” Goody had said, “what do you suggest for improvements?”

“You gonna hire me?”

“Sure,” Goody had said with a crooked smile.

Joshua had made it through one day of work before revealing he was a massive boxing fan. Goody had just been quietly resigned to his fate. On the whole though Joshua should have known from that first meeting that working for Goody would be different from any other boss, since Goody actually made the effort to care; even when he said he didn’t.

Joshua looked down at what he had drawn, it didn’t look much better than Goody’s ideas. Perhaps they should ask Red. His thoughts interrupted by the sound of steps on the stairs and Joshua looked over, a moment later Vasquez emerged on the rooftop.

“Evening,” Vasquez said.

“You are trespassing,” Joshua said, but he grinned.

“Or I’m a concerned citizen worried you’re gonna jump off the roof,” Vasquez said. Joshua scoffed.

“That really what it looks like?”

“No.”

“You didn’t come in for lunch today,” Joshua said and watched Vasquez drag a chair closer and sit down, swinging up his long legs and resting his feet on the ledge near Joshua’s feet.

“Didn’t know if you’d told Goody by now or not.”

“What should I have told him?”

Vasquez was gnawing on his bottom lip and not looking at Joshua.

“That I’m the sous-chef in the restaurant across the street and have been picking up lunch for Billy Rocks from here.”

“Oh that. Nah, haven’t told him yet.”

“Please don’t,” Vasquez said, looking at him. “Don’t take away the food.”

Joshua chuckled.

“That depends doesn’t it.”

“Depends on what?”

“What you’ll give me.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know yet,” Joshua said truthfully.

“You know they are kind of ridiculous,” Vasquez said. “Our bosses I mean.”

“Oh totally,” Joshua said. Sighing and tossing the sketchpad to the ground and focusing his whole attention on his sandwich instead. Though he caught the movement when Vasquez picked up the sketchpad.

“You gonna remodel?”

“Goody is _“thinking”_ about it,” Joshua said, making actual air quotes for thinking. “He’s been thinking about having tables up here since forever, but I think you guys opening up might actually push him into action. Or pushed him closer to action, might still need an actual proposal for him to actually act on it.”

Vasquez held out a hand, and Joshua gave it a confused stare.

“Pen,” Vasquez said, and Joshua handed it over and watched curiously as Vasquez leaned the pad on a bent knee and started drawing. Joshua shrugged to himself and kept eating.

“It’s just you and Goody running this place?” Vasquez asked.

“Yeah, well, we have Teddy come in occasionally for kitchen duty. And Red of course, but he’s only part time. Goody is thinking that we might need a second waiter if we start seating people up here. He’s just hesitant about bringing new people in.” Goody hadn’t actually talked about being hesitant about that, Joshua had worked it out for himself, though he wasn’t sure if it was a money issue or something else.

“You know him long?”

Joshua tilted his head but Vasquez wasn’t looking at him.

“Is this an interrogation of some kind?” Joshua asked, and smiled when Vasquez looked up. “You guys really are spying on us.”

That made Vasquez laugh before looking down at the pad in his lap again.

“Sorry, just curious I guess. It just, different from what I’m used to. You seem to go out of your way to do more work than is expected of a sous-chef. This for example,” he pointed at the sketchpad.

Joshua shrugged and balled up the wrapper his sandwich had been in.

“I’m grateful to Goody it‘s all,” he said. “We used to clash a lot in the beginning, but he believed in me when not even I believed in myself.” Which was way too revealing than he wanted to be, and he looked out at the street below.

The alarm on his phone went off, and he fished it out of his pocket silencing it.

“I should get back to clean up,” Joshua said and got up. Vasquez followed suit and handed Joshua the sketchpad. Joshua looked at it and his eyes widened, Vasquez had actually drawn a very pretty picture unlike Joshua who had been trying to make an over head view of table placements, but Vasquez had something else entirely with it depth and shadows, a view from the staircase of tables and chairs and table cloths, A trellis rising from the ledge with flowers and from the top of it, and over the tables to the storage space roof hung a net of lights.

“You can draw,” Joshua said, and looked up at Vasquez flashing him a grin.

“I have my talents.”

They headed down the stairs and Vasquez left and Joshua went back inside, tossing the pad on one of the counters in the kitchen, forgetting about it while cleaning up and then leaving.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“No crawfish?” Goody asked, surprised. But he collected himself, fine he could do without. “My usual order of shrimp then I guess,” he said.

“Sorry, I’m out of shrimp as well,” Mary-Anne said. 

Goody had been buying all his shellfish from Mary-Anne since he opened his restaurant. She was an older lady in her sixties Goody assumed but it wasn’t polite to ask a woman’s age. She had three cats she insisted weren’t hers, but she doted on them instead of shooing away which everyone else in the market would have done, and they never strayed from her corner of the market, two always sleeping underneath one table, and the third on top of the counter next to her cash register, that one, a large ginger cat, named Ajax, with only one ear hated Goody and took every chance it got to swipe at his hands with claws extended.

“Really?” Goody asked, unable to hide his surprise now.

“Yes, this young asian man, very handsome and polite fellow, came by earlier, not twenty minutes ago actually, and bought all my crawfish and shrimp.” She patted the cat on the counter, which was lying down but its tail was going swish-swosh back and forth and he watched Goody with suspicion in his green eyes. “Ajax fell in love with him, kept butting his hand with his head and demanding pets,” Mary-Anne continued. “He was even purring.”

Goody took a deep breath.

“Ah, I see,” Goody said. Billy Rocks he thought annoyance burning in his chest. “Do you have anything? Oysters? Crab?”

Mary-Anne shook her head, and then abruptly stopped.

“He did leave one oyster.”

“Of course he did,” Goody muttered.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Alejandro had been doing prep - which basically just boiled down to him supervising the line cooks doing prep - when Billy came stomping into the kitchen carrying three coolers clearly overflowing based on the fact that the lids didn’t close properly, he was followed by all three of their kitchen-hands they also carrying one cooler each, all nine coolers were placed on the large counter in the middle of the kitchen. Curious Alejandro walked over to the counter and the coolers that Billy was now staring at with something wild in his eyes. He poked at the first cooler, opening the lid; it was full of crawfish. He opened the next one, it too was filled with crawfish. The third and fourth were filled with prawns, in the next two were two different kinds of mussels, and the seventh had oysters, the eight crab and the last was more crawfish. Alejandro turned to Billy.

“Did you buy all the shellfish at the market?” Alejandro asked, keeping his voice neutral.

“He banned me,” Billy said. Which was all the answer Alejandro needed. “Idiota,” he muttered while turning back to the coolers.

“I’m going to have to modify our menu,” Billy said.

“That’s one concern to have,” Alejandro said. “The other is, what if he retaliates?”

“What?” Billy turned to look at Alejandro finally taking his eyes off of the coolers.

“He might take this as the first act of war and take revenge on you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re both adults,” Billy said. Alejandro indicated the nine coolers with his hand.

“This does not look like the action of an adult,” Alejandro said.

“No kid has the money required to do this,” Billy said, he actually sounded proud of it. Alejandro held back a long suffering sigh.

“Besides,” Billy continue. “This is obviously me taking revenge on him for banning me and calling my food pretentious, so we are even.”

Alejandro didn’t feel so sure about that, and he was going to have to do something to mitigate the impending disaster.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Joshua had managed to tune out Goody’s ranting after the fourth _“pretentious bastard”_ and third rhetorical question of _“what is he even going to do with all that shellfish?”_ Joshua assumed it was a rhetorical question, he didn’t have an answer anyway.

He was focused on stirring the pot of roux, they were going to have to make a gumbo with meat, Goody had at least had the good sense to not become apoplectic until he got back, and before that had gone to the butcher and seen about getting some more sausage and chicken than usual. 

Goody meanwhile was pacing around the kitchen, not actually contributing to the wok, and just waving his hands around and ranting. Red was sitting on a counter, pretending to listen to Goody.

Suddenly his phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket surreptitiously, not that Goody would have noticed anyway, too wrapped up in his ranting. He’d gotten a text message from V. They’d met up a few times after work, eventually exchanging phone numbers and started sending each other funny stories that happened in their respective kitchen, this time however the message from Vasquez simply said: _“come out back, alone”_

Joshua frowned a little, but shrugged and called out, “Red come watch this pot for me.”

Red looked over at him without making a move to jump off the counter.

“Please?” Joshua tried, Red sometimes responded to politeness. Red held out his hand.

“I’d need a raise, I’m not hired to cook.”

Joshua sighed and reminded himself that at least it was better than the month Red had pretended to not understand English; more specifically pretended not to understand Joshua’s English, he understood the customers perfectly. 

He pulled out a ten from his pocket and walked over slapping it into Red’s hand. Red grinned and jumped off the counter and walked over the pot. Joshua turned and found himself looking at Goody who was watching him and had paused his ranting.

“I’ll be right back” Joshua said.

“Whe-”

“Why don’t you prepare some fish?” At least there had still been fish at the market, and Joshua had a feeling they’d sell a lot of the deep fried catfish.

“I’m the boss here,” Goody protested, but it sounded a bit defeated and he did start working so Joshua ignored him and headed out through the back door. 

The alley behind the restaurant was empty at first glance, but as soon as the door closed Vasquez holding a pink cooler stepped out from behind a dumpster he’d been hiding behind.

“Should you be here?” Joshua asked. “Your boss has just declared war.”

Vasquez made a face.

“He’s calling it an act of revenge for banning him.”

“I don’t think Goody sees it that way,” Joshua said, and then eyed the cooler curiously. Vasquez held it up opening the lid and showing the crawfish inside.

“Peace offering?” Joshua asked. Vasquez handed over the cooler and shrugged.

“Something like that. We don’t need this much crawfish. Billy’s reworking our whole menu, it’s ridiculous. He’s ridiculous. But I prefer him alive.”

“I’ll try to stop Goody from killing him,” Joshua said, and looked away from the cooler and back at Vasquez. “Not for you,” he said, “but if Goody goes to jail for manslaughter-”

“Wouldn’t it be murder?” Vasquez interrupted, corners of his mouth twitching like he was almost smiling. Joshua continued talking, “I will lose my job.”

“I understand,” Vasquez said. “How are you going to explain where you got the crawfish from?” he asked, sounding curious. Joshua shrugged.

“I’ll think of something.”

“I’m sure you’ll do. I should head back before Billy realizes I’m missing.”

“Yeah,” Joshua said. “Thanks for this,” he lifted the cooler and smiled. “I’ll buy you lunch some time.”

“Thanks.”

Joshua walked back inside the kitchen and called out, “Look what I got!” and put the cooler on the counter. Goody immediately crowded coser when Joshua opened the lid.

“Where did you get those from?” Goody asked, giving Joshua a questioning look. “I didn’t think there were crawfish in our alley.”

“No, but I do have a black market crawfish dealer skulking around in dark alleys,” Joshua said. Goody looked unconvinced, but Red snorted.

“Ha! Made you laugh!” Crowed Joshua and pointed at Red who was still standing by the pot and visibly had to restrain a smile. “I did! Admit it! I am funny!”

“Never,” Red said, usual mask of indifference in place once more.

Joshua shot him a smug smile.

“I know you think I’m funny.”

“You have a very high and deluded opinion of yourself,” Red said.

“Boys,” Goody interrupted, “if we could get back to work…”

~*~

They were able to serve a some plates of seafood gumbo that day, though not nearly as many as usual and it was a good thing they had a meatier version to fall back on. Some of the dishes requiring crab they had been forced to scrap entirely. It was perhaps not their best day, but their regulars seemed accepting of the situation.

Joshua was scrubbing away at one of the cast iron pans after finishing their own dinner - Goody made maque choux after Red’s suggestion which they didn’t have on the menu but of course had the ingredients for and it had been delicious, the thing about Goody’s cooking was that he really was great at it. Joshua had watched Goody box on TV and thought that that was what he was meant for, not knowing that actually no, Goody had always been meant to stand in a kitchen and feed people. Or maybe people weren’t made for one purpose only - Goody and Sam were still out there in the front room talking and Joshua could hear them laugh. Probably talking old memories, Goody’s long term memory being much better than his short term.

“So-”

Joshua flinched so hard he actually could feel his feet lift as he jumped in surprise. He hadn’t even heard Red approach him. He spun around pointing at Red with a wet hand that dripped water on the floor.

“Don’t do that,” he said. His heart beating rapidly. “Don’t sneak up on people.”

“I wasn’t even sneaking,” Red said, heaving himself up on the counter next to the dishwasher. He looked at Joshua with something unreadable in his expression.

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell who what?” Joshua asked, a little testy, but his heart was calming down and he started to turn back to the pan.

“Tell Goody that you’re friends with his rival’s sous-chef.”

Joshua froze and then started sputtering, and turning away to hide his suddenly red cheeks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve seen you you know,” Red said. “I walk past here again after practice.”

Joshua started to turn back to him to say that Red must be mistaken.

“And besides, I know what he looks like, I saw him when he was here eating the night before they opened,” Red said.

“Red,” Joshua started.

“You should tell him,” Red said.

“Why?”

“Isn’t that better than having him figuring it out on his own?”

“He won’t.”

“He’s not an idiot. A black market crawfish dealer, seriously?”

“It’s no big deal,” Joshua said.

Red didn’t look convinced but at that moment Goody entered the kitchen interrupting them, and Joshua turned back to washing the pan.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

A couple of days passed and nothing happened, Billy was starting to relax thinking Goodnight wasn’t going to do anything as revenge for the shellfish incident. Billy had made a successful temporary menu with a few dishes he should probably think about bringing back some other time.

However a week later he ran into Goodnight at the farmer’s market. Billy grabbed the last box of sweet potatoes at the same time as someone else grabbed the same box. Billy looked up and saw that it was Goodnight.

“Chef,” Goodnight said.

“Chef,” Billy said.

“We keep meeting like this,” Goodnight said, tugging at the box. Billy tugged back.

“Yes, isn’t that a very funny coincidence,” Billy said, and tugged at the box. Goodnight tugged back.

“You know, considering your fancy restaurant and rising career I assumed you would have someone doing your shopping for you.”

“I like knowing what I am buying, and this way I can see if there’s something looking good that I’d miss otherwise.”

“Like buying all the shellfish in the market?”

“Something like that.”

They kept tugging at the box between them.

“You know, I still haven’t gotten you back for that,” Goodnight said, “but I guess,” he looked meaningfully at the box between them.

“What?” Billy asked, and then looked from the box to Goodnight. “You’ll leave me alone if I give you this?”

Goodnight shrugged, and Billy let go of the box, although he considered holding on to it. After all, what could Goodnight possibly do to him. Sure the man was a former boxer, but he didn’t think he’d start punching him in a farmers market.

“You have a terrible sense for business,” Billy said. One box of sweet potatoes hardly made up for all the shellfish.

“So I’ve been told,” Goodnight said, and then with a cheery ‘bye’ he turned and walked away.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The trellis on the rooftop was coming along nicely. Joshua was up there taking a short break, while the builders were downstairs, eating lunch and listening to Goody regaling them with tall tales.

He heard steps in the stairs and turned around expecting Red, but his eyes widened when he spotted Vasquez.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Joshua asked, nodding towards the other restaurant.

“Have the morning off” Vasquez said walking over to the edge where Joshua was sitting in a chair, and looked closer at the trellis, a contemplative look on his face.

“This looks good.”

“Don’t tell me, you know carpentry as well?” Joshua asked. “Chef, artist, crawfish dealer, and carpenter, what else do you know how to do.”

“Little of this little of that,” Vasquez said, “my uncle was a carpenter though.” He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down across from Joshua.

Vasquez had a habit of showing up on the rooftop whenever Joshua was there, it had happened more than once now, and if Joshua had to be honest with himself, he kind of liked hanging out with Vasquez. The man was a lot of fun and he liked the easy familiarity and back and forth teasing.

“You expect more guests?”

“Goody is, though I have no idea how he’s planned on attracting more customers.”

“Maybe work on presentation,” Vasquez said.

“What, like take a page out of you guys’s book?”

Vasquez shrugged.

“Well it works,” he said. “People eat with their eyes as well.”

“Yes, I know, I went to culinary school just like you,” Joshua snapped and then quickly closed his mouth. Across the table he saw Vasquez eyes widen in surprise.

“You did?”

“Yes, I did, don’t tell Goody.”

“I don’t know how I would have the opportunity to tell him,” Vasquez said. “He doesn’t know?”

“No, and it’s not like it would matter anyway, I didn’t last long.”

He had already been a heavy drinker by that point. But he had still been able to remember his mother’s voice praising him for his cooking skills, calling him her own personal chef, and technically he had been. Two years after Joshua’s father left them his mother had been diagnosed with cancer, and eventually Joshua had started cooking for his mother, just simple things, but he had gotten better and better at it. And then she died and he started drinking, way too early. He’d gone to culinary school in her honor, failing out of it would later once he sobered up, feel like he had let her down, though at the time he’d been to messed up to feel much of anything.

“Well, then you already know about presentation,” Vasquez said and grinned. “It’s just not about dumping all the food in a pile on the plate.”

“You guys could learn a thing or two from us about actually giving your customers enough food,” Faraday shot back. Vasquez was still smiling and opened his mouth but was interrupted by Red shouting, “Faraday!” from downstairs.

Joshua shot Vasquez a apologetic look.

“Sorry, I’d love to stay and chat but it looks like I have to get back to actually feeding our guests.” He grinned. “They probably left your restaurant still hungry.”

That made Vasquez laugh, and Joshua joining, in, still chuckling a little as he walked back inside the kitchen.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Billy sighed and sank down in the large green armchair, Emma had claimed one of the back rooms for her office, and was already sitting behind her desk - she split her time between Billy’s restaurants, and he knew she preferred Hwando where Matthew worked - and phone to her ear. Billy tilted his head back and closed his eyes, but opened them again when something dropped down in his lap, a sandwich from across the street, he looked up at Vasquez who sat down in the other chair after first depositing another sandwich on Emma’s desk, and started unwrapping his own.

Billy picked up his sandwich and was in the process of biting into it, the cajun chicken as spicy and delicious as usual. He had to give the man, as frustrating as he could be in person and as old-fashioned as his restaurant and food was, it did taste great. When Emma hung up with a sigh and grabbed her own sandwich.

“The first reviews have looked great,” Emma said. Of course they did, they were the kind of reviewers easily charmed by getting special treatment and that had been provided. Sure Billy believed in his food, but he wasn’t going to kid himself into thinking there wasn’t more to it.

“I’ve just got a heads up though, Gavin is going to visit any day.”

“We still don’t know what he looks like?” Vasquez asked.

“It could be a woman,” Emma pointed out. “That Gavin is a nom de plume is the one thing everyone seems in agreement on.”

Gavin’s food column could make or break a restaurant. Billy’s first restaurant, Hwando, had gotten glowing reviews, and the one that had really skyrocketed him and his restaurant had been the one from Gavin. Nobody knew who this Gavin was, and there was much speculation about who he could be. Gavin’s review of Woldo, Billy’s second restaurant had been more lukewarm. Still positive, but not as enthusiastic, saying that it seemed as if Billy’s imagination and innovation had reached its peak and now it was just more of the same.

“Maybe I need to look over the menu,” Billy mumbled.

“It’s brand new, there’s not a single dish the same as the other restaurants,” Emma said.

“Yes, but maybe I need something else that’s different.”

“You could try putting more food on the plate,” Vasquez said. Billy looked over at him. “I’m just saying, two scallops isn’t as filling as say three.” He held up three fingers.

Billy stared at him.

“And maybe if your food was more plentiful, Robicheaux will stop calling your food pretentious.”

“I don’t care what some old-fashioned chef across the street thinks about my food,” Billy snapped.

“No, of course not,” Vasquez said, and had the nerve to roll his eyes. Billy glared at him and turned away. Eyes landing on Emma who caught his eyes and shook her head.

“He’s only been in here once as far as I’m aware.”

“I wasn’t asking,” Billy grumbled. He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt so annoyed in regards to Goodnight Robicheaux, and he knew the only reason Vasquez even brought it up was because it riled Billy up. Goodnight probably didn’t get this annoyed thinking about Billy, and thinking that made him feel even more annoyed.

“You could give that other suggestion I had another chance,” Vasquez said.

“What?”

“Gold.” Vasquez smiled and there was something gleaming in his eyes.

“Oh no,” Billy said. “I might concede that my food is a bit pretentious, but I have some limits. Metal is not food.” He had to draw a line, and that was where he was drawing it. He finished off his sandwich and tossed the wrapper into the wastebasket and got up.

“Anything else?” he turned to Emma, who got a considering expression on her face for a moment.

“Not, that I can think of.” She frowned. “Well, the pawn shop across the street is closing. Denali - the owner of their building, and most of the buildings on the street - told me the building’s been sold. He said there were talk of a Starbucks opening.”

She shrugged. “Nothing important.”

Billy nodded. “Alright.” He walked towards the door, and Vasquez got up as well.

“Come on, what’s the harm. Just let me cover a tiny prawn in gold.”

“No gold prawns,” Billy said heading towards the kitchen with Vasquez following him.

“You could make gold flowers, surely that must appeal to your aesthetic.”

Billy sighed.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The opening in the wall letting people look into the kitchen and placing Billy’s station right there so that people could watch him had been Emma’s idea, or possibly Vasquez idea through Emma, he did that sometimes and it was Billy’s own fault for not saying no to her nearly half as much as he said no to Vasquez - still, he had pretended not to see the gold dust on the latest delivery order, he was curious to see what Vasquez was planning before he said no.

Not a single plate went out of the kitchen before Billy had put his finishing touches to it. Straightening something; sending it back to be redone; adding the last flair to any creation making sure the composition looked the most attractive.

He was slowly spinning a lemon in one hand knife in the other carefully cutting off the rind, when Emma approached him.

“We have a problem,” she whispered, he glanced at her, hands still moving.

“What?”

“We ran out of flowers after lunch, and Vasquez just called saying he can’t find any, the only store selling them is out.”

Billy paused, lowering his hands to the counter and turned to Emma.

“It doesn’t have to be the usual ones,” Billy said. Emma shook her head.

“There aren’t any other. Someone’s bought every single edible flower available.”

Billy took a deep breath.

“That son of a bitch,” he hissed.

“You don’t know its him,” Emma said prudently. Billy raised an eyebrow.

“There’s another issue as well,” Emma continued and bit her bottom lip. Billy had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what she was about to tell him. “There’s a name on the reservation list for tonight, it was on the reservation for both Hwando and Woldo the day before Gavin’s reviews of them.

Billy’s hand tightened unconsciously on the knife.

“You only have yourself to blame,” Emma said. Billy turned on her again, glaring. She looked unaffected.

“I did not start this,” Billy ground out between clenched teeth. She didn’t look convinced.

Billy put down the knife and half peeled lemon, the coiled rind on top of the blade, and untied his apron.

“I’ll be right back,” Billy said.

“Where are you-” Emma started and then realization dawned as Billy dropped the apron on the counter as well. “Don’t you dare make this worse.”

“I’m not going to make this worse,” Billy said walking towards the door, and removing his hairnet. He was aware that some of the line cooks were watching him and had probably been listening in on their conversation as well, he turned his head and glared at them and they quickly went back to work. Some dishes would have to go out without his supervision, but this shouldn’t take too long.

He stalked across the street and through the door to Kajun Kitchen. It wasn’t very crowded this afternoon, and the waiter was wiping off tables, he looked up at Billy and didn’t even look surprised. Billy stomped past him, and in through the door to the kitchen.

He spotted Goodnight immediately who was alone in the kitchen standing by the deep fryer. A tray of squash blossoms on one side coated in batter and another tray on the other side with the finished deep fried flowers. He was whistling, and once again wearing a baseball cap instead of proper covering on his head.

Goodnight turned around, and stopped whistling his expression slipping to something more cold and casual.

“I thought it was clear that you being banned from my restaurant also meant you’re not allowed in the kitchen,” Goodnight said.

“You bought every single flower,” Billy said.

“You bought all the shellfish,” Goodnight pointed out.

“Well, at least I had use for them,” Billy said. “Why would you need a ton of flowers?”

“Experimenting,” Goodnight said, turning around at the beep and pulled out the basket of flowers from the fryer. “What do you think deep fried squash blossom goes well with?” Goodnight mused smiling as he moved the flowers one by one to the tray. Billy could feel his own frustration and annoyance growing with the anger, because this was nothing but a joke to Goodnight. Of course it was, so far all they had done hadn’t been very serious but this was actually jeopardizing Billy’s success, if he got a bad review…

“I can’t serve them with the catfish, that’s way too much fried batter for any one person to consume,” Goodnight continued turned in such a way that Billy could see his face deep in thought, a crease between the eyes, tip of a tongue caught between his lips. Goodnight loaded up the basket with more flowers and put it back in the oil before turning to Billy again.

“What do you think?” Goodnight asked.

“I don’t care,” Billy snapped. Ignoring the urge to weigh in with an opinion. “You got more than just squash blossoms didn’t you?” Billy asked, though he knew the answer.

“I did indeed,” Goodnight said.

“Since you don’t know what to do with them, why don’t you just give them to me,” Billy suggested. Goodnight raised his eyebrows.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have plans for all the flowers I bought. I am sure at least one of them will go well in the gumbo.”

Billy glared at him.

“Your glare isn’t scaring me,” Goodnight said. “I used to be a boxer.”

“ _Used to be_ being the keyword,” Billy said, voice low and threatening.

“I could still knock you out with my left hand,” Goodnight said taking a step closer. Billy never one to back down took a step forward as well.

“I’d like to see you try,” Billy said.

At that moment a door opened behind them.

“Am I interrupting something?” A voice said, and Billy turned around and spotted a man stepping through the backdoor from the alleyway.

“Oh come on Faraday!” Exclaimed the waiter who Billy hadn’t even noticed was standing in the door between the front room and the kitchen. “This was just about to get interesting.”

“Red,” Goodnight said turning to the waiter. Red let out a petulant sigh before leaving.

“If you are gonna fight you should take it to Sam’s and sell tickets,” the man apparently called Faraday said.

“Chef Rocks here was just about to leave,” Goodnight said. “No one is fighting anyone.”

“We haven’t settled this yet,” Billy protested. “Let me pay you for the flowers.”

Goodnight eyed him thoughtfully.

“Double,” Billy added when the silence started to stretch. “I’ll pay double whatever you paid for them.”

“That’s a pretty generous deal,” Faraday said from behind Billy. Billy glanced over his shoulder again at Faraday standing behind him. His eyes also landed on a shelf in the corner behind the other man where a couple of coolers stood, a pink one looking a lot like one Billy had.

“Sorry, but I think I’m going to hold on to them.”

Billy’s head whipped back to stare at Goodnight, all other thoughts leaving his mind. He hadn’t exactly had a plan in coming over here, but he definitely hadn’t been planning on begging. Surely the man should have just realized he had no use for the flowers, or at least let Billy pay him for them.

“You- what?” Anger building up inside of him again. “You are the most infuriating man I have ever met,” Billy said.

“I’m sorry I can’t say the same about you back,” Goodnight said.

Before Billy could do or say anything a new voice called out: “Is my errant head-chef here?” And a moment later Vasquez stepped inside the kitchen his eyes going from Faraday to Goodnight and then landing on Billy.

“I see you’ve avoided a brawl,” Vasquez said. “To bad, Emma told me if you came back with a black eye or a concussion she’d demote you and promote me.”

“She doesn’t have the authority to do that,” Billy protested, but at that moment Vasquez grabbed him by the arm and started tugging.

“I do apologize for him,” Vasquez said, oddly seeming to address Faraday rather than Goodnight.

Billy bristled at the implication that he’d done anything warranting an apology. But he reluctantly started following Vasquez.

“He’s the one who bought all my flowers,” Billy said. “He should apologize.”

“You did buy all the shellfish,” Vasquez pointed out and Billy was suddenly so annoyed that Vasquez refused to join with this feud. It wasn’t even like Billy had started it, he was just defending himself, or so he was telling himself.

“I let you take the box of sweet potatoes,” Billy said over his shoulder to Goodnight who was looking at him with a smile that almost made Billy forget his anger because it was endearingly crooked and his eyes crinkled.

“You’re the one who told me it wasn’t on the same level as buying all the shellfish,” Goodnight said, and yes, Billy had said that, but still. That was different.

“This isn’t over!” Billy shouted before Vasquez managed to drag him out of the restaurant.

“Come on, you have customers to feed,” Vasquez said.

“What if the reviewer comes around tonight and there are no flowers?” Billy said. “What are we going to do?”

“Everything will be fine,” Vasquez said, and it was annoying how calm he was being, while Billy felt like he was going to explode with the sudden bout of nerves.

They returned to his kitchen and Billy set about working instead, hoping it would distract him, but he couldn’t stop worrying about it. Half an hour later, feeling like he was about to vibrated out of his skin with anxiety Vasquez returned after taking out the garbage - which if Billy had been a little less worried would have found unexpected - carrying what could only be called a bouquet of mismatched flowers.

Billy snatched them out of Vasquez hands, and held them reverently staring at them in surprise and disbelief.

“Where did you get these from?” Emma said, Billy hadn’t even been aware she was in the kitchen, he suspected she had been observing him to make sure he didn’t do something stupid like marching out of there again this time armed.

“Sometimes it helps making friends rather than enemies,” Vasquez said in a pointed tone of voice. Billy glared at him, which quickly turned into suspicion. The pink cooler in Goodnight’s kitchen had indeed looked exactly like one of Billy’s. “There’s not a lot of them,” Vasquez said. Billy looked at the flowers and there really wasn’t a lot of them. “But if Emma is right in her suspicion of who the reviewer is, then we just have to make sure he gets them, and then whoever else is sitting nearby will get them as well.”

Calmed down with the crisis averted, Billy set about preparing the flowers. It was a small bouquet, and if Billy was right in his suspicion, that would still mean they had a lot of flowers left. With his mind off of the crisis, he could afford the stray thought wondering what Goodnight was going to make of all the flowers, the fried squash blossoms what would he serve them with? And all the other flowers? Where would they end up? Probably in some strange combination that wouldn’t work at all, and it itched in Billy’s mind he could probably do it. If voiced out loud Vasquez would probably call him arrogant, and perhaps he was, thinking that he could do a better job, but all of a sudden he kind of wanted to try it. Adding flowers to Goody’s old fashioned typical cajun food, making it stand out, not just in taste, turning it into something special.

He had to shake his head and try and focus again, why was he even thinking about it? It wasn’t as if he wanted to help Goodnight, the man was ridiculous, and infuriating and annoying and had no sense for anything. But the sense of curiosity, his love for experimentation, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, not until Emma announced in a quiet whisper to Billy and Vasquez that the reviewer had arrived and after that Billy was back in the game, his mind focused on one single thing.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Goody was good at tuning out the buzz of voices and laughter from the restaurant while he worked, it was nothing but a white noise, easy to ignore, but there was something different about it this night. There were harsh angry voices, hissed whispers, that made the buzzing more noticeable not less. It was difficult to ignore, and he could tell from the pinched look on Faraday’s face that he was picking up on it as well.

Goody pulled Red aside when he came in for the plates for the next order - jambalaya; gumbo; and catfish - and whispered, “is there something going on?”

“A bunch of the tenants next door are talking,” Red said. Face neutral but an edge to his voice. “Apparently their rent’s gone up, like way up. There’s talk about having to move.”

Goody bit his lip. He was sad to hear that, some of the people living in the building next door had been there for as long as Goody could remember, people he’d seen on the street long before he opened his restaurant in this spot. They’d all been friendly and kind, and Goody didn’t want to see them thrown out, they didn’t deserve that.

“How about free dessert tonight?” Faraday said, over Goody’s shoulder.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Goody said, although it felt like a kind of hollow empty gesture to people who might lose their home.

Later after closing he helped Red carry up plates to the finished rooftop where Faraday and Sam were waiting by a table next to the edge.

“A lot of buildings on the street have been sold the last month,” Sam said when they’d started eating. “Not just the one next door. The pawn shop’s closing at the end of the week already. But Mr. Wojcik is almost 90 so perhaps he’s just decided he wants to retire.”

“You get anyone wanting to buy your place?” Goody asked. Sam shook his head.

“Eventually I guess I’ll get an offer.”

“And what will you say?” Faraday asked. A slow smile spread on Sam’s face.

“I guess I’ll tell them to shove their offer up their ass. But in more polite words.”

“I have faith in your command of the English language,” Goody said with a laugh.

But their laughter was brief and they continued eating in a much more somber mood than usual.

~*~

Days passed and the buzz in the restaurant returned to normal, and Goody could almost forget that something was going on. At least he wasn’t actively worried about it and the after work meals returned to the usual affair of laughter and talking, and bickering about who could grab the last of the corn bread.

A month passed quickly, and Faraday had his weekend off, coming back on Monday bright and early, and Goody didn’t make a big deal of it, didn’t even tease him, though he did catch the tail end of Red and Faraday’s conversation, but at the end of the day they were back to their usual back and forth friendly teasing.

Things were calm, and then the Wednesday the day after Goody happened to glance through the kitchen door during the lunch rush, and he spotted McCann sitting at one of the tables eating.

“What’s he doing here,” Goody muttered at the same time as Faraday came through the kitchen door, Red had the day off and so Faraday manned the register, taking orders and handing out the plates from the counter while Goody was busy in the kitchen.

“Who?” Faraday asked. Goody shook his head and went back to plating gumbo.

“No one,” Goody said shaking his head and not looking at Faraday.

“Goody…”

“It’s not important,” Goody said. Shoving the plates into Faraday’s hands and shooing him back out.

He had forgotten he realized, about Sam telling him about McCann, but it had been more than a month and after Sam first mentioning him nothing had really happened and Goody had been distracted anyway. 

Goody caught another glance of McCann and wondered if he should march out there.Throw him out, ask what he was doing here? But perhaps he didn’t even know who owned the restaurant, maybe he just really wanted some gumbo and this was the closest place?

He took a step towards the door and then stopped, legs feeling like they were made of lead. He closed his eyes tilting his head back, his stomach twisting and turning uncomfortably. He couldn’t go out there to confront McCann. 

He had run back home putting as much distance as possible between him, McCann and the man he worked for. The last time Goody had seen McCann he had been on the floor wiping the blood off of his split lip after Goody’s right hook. Goody had been brave once, but it had just been for that moment, a moment where his anger had been a white hot flame and he hadn’t thought too much about it, now on the other hand he couldn’t stop thinking. His stomach twisted again and he could taste sour bile, feeling ashamed of himself. Hiding in his kitchen. He had fallen so far.

~*~

Sam couldn’t hide the surprise on his face, but thankfully he didn’t say anything when Goody showed up at the gym that evening. Goody didn’t go there often, in fact he could probably count the number of times in the past two years on both hands. The smells triggering too many memories and often overwhelming him, but after seeing McCann earlier in the day he wasn’t going to be able to shut off the movie reel of memories playing in his mind anyway.

The gym was practically deserted and Sam helped Goody with his gloves and then held the sandbag without saying a word, just letting Goody punch and punch until he was panting leaning forward, forehead resting against the leather of the bag, breathing in large gulping breaths and swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat, and he could feel wetness gathering behind his closed eyes. He screwed his eyes closed harder trying to gather himself again, his own reaction surprising even himself.

He had been so tense lately, anxious and worried and the reminder of his past had just thrown him off completely, and here he was breaking down in Sam’s gym for no good reason.

A large hand suddenly rested on top of his hand and he was pushed slightly back while the bag Goody was leaning against was replaced by Sam’s chest, and Goody was struck by the memory of standing like this in the past too. Strong comforting hand ruffling his hair, and the steady rise of Sam’s breathing moving Goody’s head. Back when he was scrawny and angry, and lost. Back when whenever he got angry enough he started crying and couldn’t stop it making him feel even more frustrated. He was a grown man now, he shouldn’t be standing here like this feeling like he was falling apart; cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“It must have surprised you,” Sam said later, after Goody’s words started spilling out. The two of them sitting side by side on a bench. Sam’s hand resting on Goody’s back where he sat hunched forward a little, hands resting in his lap. Gloves off and tape dangling half removed from one hand the other hand still taped.

“Seeing him again.”

“I’m a mess.” Goody sighed, eyes closed again, head bowed forward. “Cowardly hiding and then crying. What is there even to cry about.”

“Nothing,” Sam said. Goody turned his head and gave him an annoyed look. Sam just moved his hand to ruffle Goody’s hair.

“It’s that big brain of yours again,” Sam said, while Goody batted his hand away. “Always overthinking things.”

Goody looked away from him and continued unwrapping his hands instead.

“It’s probably better you didn’t confront him anyway you know,” Sam said. “Don’t know why he was there anyway.”

Sam was the only one Goody had told the whole story to, everyone else could think whatever they wanted, but Sam had deserved the whole truth when Goody came crawling back, broke and feeling like the biggest failure. From then had promised himself he would listen to Sam, because if he had done so from the beginning then none of it would have happened in the first place. But despite telling himself that Sam was most likely right, the shameful feeling was still in his stomach, sure it was better he hadn’t done it, but the fact that he wouldn’t have been able to do it in the first place if it had been the right thing to do continued to gnaw on his insides.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took way longer than I wanted to finish. I probably had more things I wanted to say, but I can't remember what it was now. I hope you will like this.

“Sam, you will not believe what I just found out!” Goody called out as soon as he was through the door of Sam’s gym. He looked around the almost empty gym and spotted Sam standing next to one of the boxing rings, where he had been watching the two twenty-something women sparring; all three turned towards Goody.

“Shouldn’t you still be at work?” Sam asked, glancing at the watch on his wrist, and then looked back at Goody, a worried frown on his face. Goody didn’t think Sam could tell that Goody felt like he was vibrating with held back emotions, and that he wasn’t simply flushed from the walk to the gym.

“How could I stay there after what I’ve just heard?” Goody stalked towards Sam who met him halfway, reaching out a hand and grabbing Goody’s arm.

“Office,” Sam said before looking over his shoulder. “Tasha, Michelle, you can finish on your own, don’t do anything stupid.” The two girls grinned and gave him twin mock salutes.

“They’ll probably start throwing each other around pretending they’re wrestlers instead the minute I turn my back,” Sam mumbled while Goody let himself be herded towards Sam’s cramped office, which was no bigger than a closet - Goody suspected it was indeed a closet turned into an office.

Sam sat down in the old beat up chair behind the small desk, but Goody ignored the other chair, not only because it was heaped full of papers and binders, but because he didn't think he could sit still. He had stormed out of his restaurant, head spinning and chest tight with emotion, and it felt like he was seconds from vibrating out of his own skin.

“It's Bogue,” Goody said still feeling caught somewhere between disbelief and anger.

“What about Bogue?” Sam asked, still calm but the concerned frown was back.

“Apparently he didn’t feel like he'd tormented me enough,” Goody said. 

It had been McCann who scouted Goody, but ultimately Bogue had become Goody's manager and eventual reason for Goody's fall from grace and why he chose to quit. 

“He's buying up the street,” Goody said. “And hiking up the rent on every building trying to get everyone to move out so he can build a mall or something.” Goody had been waving his hands in the air, but now stopped and put his hands on the desk, leaning forward towards Sam, and hissed the word: _“gentrification.”_

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

Goody nodded.

“I heard it from Mike Weir; you know Mike?”

“One of your regulars?” Sam asked. Goody nodded.

“Yeah, I think his husband usually visits your gym.”

“Oh, that Mike. Justin’s Mike?”

“That's him,” Goody said. “Anyway, Mike works at city hall. He and Justin were having dinner and he was telling me all about it. He happened to see some åpapers with a planned proposal for this street. And how that explains why the rent has been raised so much in such a short time.” 

Goody pushed off the desk and tried pacing, but the room was too cramped for that and at best he could just spin in a tight circle.

“Bogue's name was all over the papers.”

“I thought he was based in Nevada?”

“Isn't it obvious? He's here just to ruin my life. Again.”

“That’s paranoia,” Sam said but it lacked its usual conviction.

“What else can it be?” Goody asked and stopped to look at Sam again. “You really think it's a coincidence? That McCann's been sneaking around your gym and my place? Having a new pretentious restaurant open across the street from me?”

He looked at Sam who closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“But why?” Sam asked. Goody let out an explosive breath and sank down on the very edge of the other chair, slumping forward.

“I don't know,” he mumbled. “I paid everything I owed and...” He trailed off. He hadn't been worth keeping as a boxer, the scandal had tainted him Bogue would have been happy to send him away; if Bogue had the capacity to feel happiness which Goody seriously doubted.

“We were in mutual agreement about me quitting,” Goody said. “At least I thought as much, I didn’t exactly discuss it with him.

They sat in silence for a moment; outside the room Goody could hear the girls finishing up, laughing and heading towards the changing room.

“Have you told Faraday and Red?” Sam asked. Goody shook his head.

“Told them I had to run a quick errand and that they could start clean up after the last guest.” He sighed suddenly feeling exhausted and drained. “I can try fighting this, but I don't know if it will make a difference. I don't have the money.”

“You're not alone,” Sam said. Goody shot him a quick grateful smile, though he didn't know how much of a difference it would make, he was happy to know he wouldn't have to go this alone.

“Come on, if you help me clean up here we can get back to your place,” Sam said. “I'm starving.”

~*~

Later on their rooftop patio Goody watched Sam’s fond smile as he watched the way Red and Faraday teased each other. And Goody wanted to smile as well, but his smile felt brittle and hollow. They were family and Goody didn't even want to imagine hurting them or taking away what they had built together. 

Faraday who had been a mess and was still trying to find a balance in his life. He treated Red like a younger brother which meant a lot of teasing, but Red gave back as good as he got; and on the other hand Faraday would get incredibly protective of Red, something that seemed to also go both ways. 

Red could be a bit aloof sometimes, and at first glance Goody suspected people would think that Red would manage without them, but Goody knew that wasn't the case. Goody, Faraday and Sam were Red's extended family, the people closest to him while he was so far from home and his own family.

They were _family_ , there was genuine warmth and affection between them and their dinners together were always loud and happy with lots of laughter. Goody felt a heavy weight in his chest thinking that this was all threatened and at risk of being taken away from him. He didn't want to worry them, but at the same time he knew he had to tell them, it should come from him. He just wished so badly that he didn't have to.

~*~~*~~*~

Alejandro had started to suspect that Faraday was in fact ignoring him, and quite deliberately too. It had been three days of unanswered text messages and the few times he’d tried calling Faraday hadn’t picked up. Even though Alejandro had no idea what he might have done to piss him off he’d decided to give the man some space, but walking out of the restaurant after closing he spotted Faraday on the rooftop and decided to walk up and confront him, the sudden and unexpected cold shoulder, especially after their last conversation had been friendly as always had bothered him, like a stone in the shoe he couldn’t stop thinking of how annoying it was. He’d thought they were friends - he gave the guy a cooler filled with crawfish had Faraday forgotten about that? He at least had the right to know what had happened.

He found Faraday in a chair tipped back on two legs, his head resting against the wall behind him, eyes closed, but when he heard Alejandro he opened them and locked eyes with Alejandro.

“Trespassing again,” Faraday said, but without the usual teasing warmth in his voice, now it was cold, distant, dismissive even. His tone making Alejandro defensive and he stopped a couple of feet away from Faraday who tipped his chair forward to stand on all four legs.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Alejandro said. Faraday scoffed. “I want to know why.”

“No one ever tell you you can’t always get what you want.”

“Come on man, what’s your problem?” Alejandro asked, unable to hide some of his annoyance. Irritation at Faraday’s attitude was making his skin itch. “At least tell me what happened.”

“I don't have to tell you shit,” Faraday said and rose to his feet. “You swanning in here with your fancy pretentious restaurant. Where you don’t even belong.” Alejandro’s eyes widening in surprise, where the hell was this coming from? 

“And now the whole street has to change because of it,” Faraday’s voice rising, “we might be thrown out, all so that Bogue gets to open a fucking mall of all things. All because of you.”

Faraday pointed at Alejandro who stood there at a loss for words. What was he talking about?

“Wha-” Alejandro started.

“Whole street gentrified because of your restaurant.”

“Gentrified?” Alejandro said, still not sure what Faraday was talking about. The earlier irritation entirely replaced by confusion now.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Faraday stalked towards him. “Like hell you don’t!” Faraday shouted following it with a punch Alejandro didn’t see coming. Fist connecting with his cheek throwing Alejandro’s head to the side as pain bloomed in his cheek. He took a step back, lifting his hand to his cheek feeling anger flaring up.

“Get the hell off our roof,” Faraday ordered. Alejandro stepped right up into Faraday’s space staring him down, and clenching his hand into a fist, but before he could do anything a voice rang out behind him.

“What are you doing?”

Alejandro spun around and saw Red standing there, arms crossed, muscles straining against the sleeves of his t-shirt.

“He’s leaving,” Faraday said.

“Whatever,” Alejandro spat, turning around and leaving without another word. He wasn’t going to stick around where he wasn’t wanted, anger simmering in his chest. As he headed down he heard Faraday behind him say in a resigned voice: “I need a drink.” and Red answering him “That ain’t happening.”

Back on the street Alejandro started walking, cheek throbbing and head spinning trying to make sense of what had just happened, his anger slowly petering out and leaving him feeling vaguely empty and uneasy. Instead of heading home he started walking towards Billy’s apartment.

~*~~*~~*~

“And that’s what he said? Gentrification?” Billy looked at Vasquez sitting at his kitchen island, bag of peas pressed against his cheek. Billy had been surprised to see Vasquez on his doorstep, and had barely had time to tell him to come in before Vasquez marched to Billy’s kitchen and pulled the bag of peas from his freezer.

“Yeah.”

“And then he punched you?”

“Yeah.”

“This wasn’t,” Billy muttered to himself looking away from Vasquez. 

Billy had turned on the lamp hanging above the kitchen island but not the bright ceiling lamps in his large kitchen - he’d picked the apartment for the kitchen even though he’d known he wouldn’t have the time to use it all that much, and it had been more picking something he thought he was supposed to pick - and there was a soft glow all around them where they sat, and through the windows came the lights from the street lights. Kitchen counters spotless not due to cleaning but rather to disuse, though there were a couple of unwashed coffee mugs in his sink he’d been too tired to put in the dishwasher.

“I doubt that you were actually planning on this,” Vasquez said. “You know opening the restaurant here as the first step of changing the street.”

“Of course not.” Billy snapped and looked back at Vasquez. “I would never.” His stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“I know, that’s what I’m saying,” Vasquez said.

“You think it’s unfair that he’s putting the blame on us?” Billy asked.

“Well, it is.”

“I suppose.” Billy sighed. “Or maybe it was a possibility I should have seen coming.” He closed his eyes, his stomach still twisting with the feeling of guilt.

“Yeah, maybe one or two new shops might open up, I’ve seen a few empty storefronts, but Faraday made it sound like a much bigger deal. This Bogue guy buying up the whole street?”

“Who is Bogue?” Billy wondered. Nothing about this sat well with him, and he didn’t know nearly enough.

“You think Harp knows?” Vasquez asked. Billy looked at him, if Harp knew. His stomach twisted again but this time accompanied by a simmering anger. If this had been planned, if Harp had used Billy’s trust in him to be able to cash in on a plan to wreck the lives of innocent people. He swallowed hard. No, he had to reign in this anger; think logically and realistically, it could all just be a coincidence.

“I might have to give him a call,” Billy said.

“You should probably talk to Goodnight too.”

“Maybe.” He wasn’t sure Goodnight Robicheaux would be much easier to talk to than Faraday had been. Which raised another question.

“How do you know Robicheaux’s sous-chef?”

Vasquez’s eyes widened, which Billy would take as answer.

“Befriending my arch enemy’s second in command behind my back like that,” Billy said, but couldn’t help smiling a little, amused. And Vasquez snorted.

“ _Arch enemy_?” Vasquez asked with a raised brow.

“Well, what do you call someone you have a feud with?”

“I can’t believe you are having a silly feud-”

“It’s not silly,” Billy protested calmly. “It’s very serious.”

“I’m sure it is,” Vasquez said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Now about you and Faraday...”

“What about him?” Vasquez said, looking down at the table again. “He punched me in the face because he’s an idiot and I was an idiot thinking we were-” He took a deep breath. “-friends, which apparently we can’t have been because what kind of friend thinks that-” His voice had started out calm but now a note of hurt and anger was starting to creep into it. He made an abortive move towards his phone lying next to him. “We’ve been texting and hanging out talking, and I thought he li-” He sighed deeply. “I thought he knew me.”

“Vasquez,” Billy started gently, they had been friends a long time and Billy could read him pretty well by now - although apparently not that well since it had taken him quite a while to pick up on the friendship between the two sous-chefs. He needed to do better.

“Do you like him?”

“Not anymore I don’t,” Vasquez muttered.

“Don’t be a five year old.”

“You’re the one with a silly _feud_.”

Billy sighed.

“Don’t beat yourself up about this, please.”

“I’d rather beat him,” Vasquez muttered. “I didn’t even get to punch him.”

“Please don’t,” Billy said. “He probably doesn’t actually think you’re responsible.”

“How would you know?” Vasquez asked, petulantly.

“You’re right, I don’t. But think about it,” Billy said. “He’s angry clearly, maybe a bit hurt and he’s lashing out at you because you’re the only one he can lash out at. It’s a shitty think of him to do to you, but…” Billy paused, he didn’t know Faraday, he couldn’t really put words in the other man’s mouth like this, but he wanted to comfort Vasquez and knowing only a small portion of the situation this was the best he could do.

“He doesn’t want to think you are responsible, don’t you think that’s why he’s angry?” Billy asked. “And hurt. Of course he doesn’t want to suspect his friend of being involved in something like this.”

“But he should-” Vasquez started.

“He should know? How can he. He hasn’t known you for that long all things considered.” Billy reached out and put a hand on Vasquez hands.

“You and I have known each other for a long time, we don’t have a reason to jump to conclusions about the other one. But Faraday? In comparison you’ve just met.”

Vasquez sighed.

“Go home,” Billy said, trying to make it sound more like a suggestion than an order. “Try to get some sleep.” He patted Vasquez hand when he hesitated. “I’m going to make some phone calls.”

“Yeah, okay,” Vasquez said, and Billy had a feeling he hadn’t really managed to comfort him, but he wasn’t sure what to say to make the other man feel better. But what he lacked in words maybe he could make up for with action, like getting to the bottom of why Harp had insisted on opening the restaurant on this particular street and why someone was now trying to buy all the buildings.

~*~~*~~*~

Goody wasn’t nearly tired enough he realized as he walked home the next evening. He probably should have dropped by Sam’s like last evening, some time spent punching a sandbag would tire him out. Work was distracting, but not nearly enough considering how many of his work tasks he could do from muscle memory alone by now, leaving his thoughts to drift away uncontrollably with anxiety. It didn’t help that the mood in the restaurant had been significantly depressed after the news; but at least they had each other and their promise to try and fight this. At home however, in his empty apartment it was harder to stay positive; especially since every call he’d made to his landlord had been met with a busy signal.

He sighed and turned a corner. He could hear his neighbor Mr. Davis before he spotted him standing outside the building shouting: “Pickles!” Goody didn’t know the names of Mr. Davies five yorkies, but he guessed one of them had to be named Pickles.

“Oh Mr. Robicheaux,” he said when he spotted Goody.

“Evening,” Goody said, “What’s going on?”

“Pickles managed to escape earlier,” Mr. Davies said, sounding frantic and distraught. “I just came back from searching, hoping he would have come home, but still no sign of him. I was just about to head out again.”

“Would you like me to help?” Goody asked before thinking about it. Mr. Davies look at him surprised and then started to shake his head.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” he protested. “You’ve been working all day.”

“Don’t worry, I want to help,” Goody said. Even if mostly he just wanted an excuse to not go home and sit in silence and think.

“Alright, thank you. I’m heading in the direction of the park again if you could head that way,” he said, pointing in the other direction and Goody nodded. They exchanged numbers and then headed off in opposite directions.

Goody walked a bit aimlessly through the streets and occasionally shouting “Pickles”, which he suspected would have made him look a bit weird, he wasn’t the only one outside, and he asked people if they had seen a little yorkshire terrier, but was met over and over again with the reply: _‘no, sorry’._

“Pickles!” Goody shouted.

“That’s an odd thing to walk around shouting,” an unexpected and familiar voice said. Goody spun to his side and spotted of all people Billy Rocks, standing there leaning against a lamp post, wearing black slacks, a white pinstriped loose fitted shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, top buttons open; black hair in a bun, looking warm and uncharacteristically soft in the glow of the street lamp. A cigarette held between his fingers, and dark eyes eyeing Goody. He felt a strange pull in his stomach, and he shook his head.

“I’m looking for a neighbor’s dog,” Goody said, and added after half a beat: “What are you doing here?” He glanced at the street sign above Billy’s head, they were only a few blocks from both their restaurants and even closer to the street Goody lived on.

Billy nodded to the apartment building on Goody’s other side.

“I live here,” Billy said. Some of Goody’s disbelief must have shown because Billy scoffed. “What? You thought I lived in some gilded mansion outside of town-” actually Goody hadn’t thought much about it, but yeah, that sounded plausible; he was a rich and famous chef after all wasn’t he? 

Billy continued “-and was ferried back and forth by helicopter between it and the restaurant?”

“No,” Goody said slowly. “I would have heard if there was a helicopter making daily trips to the restaurant opposite mine.”

Billy cut short a surprised laugh and then eyed Goody with something in his eyes that Goody couldn’t understand. At that moment his phone rang and he turned away to answered it. Mr Davis’ voice sounded so happy that the man didn’t even have to say it for Goody to realize he’d found his lost dog. The man apologized for making Goody help searching and Goody protested and said it was all fine before hanging up. He turned back to Billy who had tossed away his cigarette in the meantime.

“Guess I can head home again,” he said and following an unconscious impulse gripped the brim of his cap and tipped it slightly while saying “good evening,” formal for no reason. He turned around before Billy said anything, but a hand suddenly gripped his arm, stopping him. Goody turned back and Billy immediately let go of Goody’s arm.

“Wait,” Billy said, not meeting Goody’s eyes. “We should,” Billy seemed to hesitate before he turned his head to face Goody, deep dark eyes, with a glint from the street light, and Goody found himself transfixed for a second, but long enough to stay quiet until Billy found the words.

“We should talk.”

“Why?” Goody asked, surprised. “About what?”

“Vasquez came by last night,” Billy started. “Told me what happened.”

“What happened?” Goody asked.

“Ah.” Billy put a hand on the back of his neck, suddenly looking surprisingly awkward. “They didn’t tell you, of course not. Well, apparently my sous-chef and yours had a bit of an argument.”

Goody raised an eyebrow. Faraday hadn’t told him about this at all.

“What did Faraday do?”

“Punched Vasquez, and apparently ranted about gentrification, which Vasquez had no idea what he was talking about by the way.”

Goody sighed. He couldn’t say he was particularly surprised. “I apologize for him.”

“Well, I’m not the one who needs the apology, and nor do I think he wants one from you.”

“Fair enough.”

Billy’s hand dropped down again an he looked down at the pavement for a moment before looking up and into Goody’s eyes again.

“I looked into things,” Billy said, it bothered me what Vasquez told me about the street being sold and it all happening after I opened up here.”

_That was surprising_ , Goody thought. He hadn’t expected Billy to do something like that.

“This is going to sound like empty excuses,” Billy continued and sighed. “I didn’t know,” he said, “I wasn’t in charge of picking the location of the restaurant, I left that to Harp,” Billy paused to take a breath, and Goody didn’t interrupt to say he had no idea who this Harp was. “And I didn’t know he was apparently in the pocket of this Bogue guy.”

Goody didn’t say anything, just watched Billy whose expression was impassive, but it looked a little like he was clenching his jaw before saying: “I’m sorry.”

“You’re right, that does sound rather empty,” Goody said.

That made Billy look at him again, expression neutral but with something hard in his eyes.

“I am being _sincere_ ,” Billy said.

“Your sincerity isn’t really of any use to me though.” Too harsh and blunt Goody realized, but it was out before he could stop himself; and it was the naked truth wasn’t it? Apologies wouldn’t change the path Goody’s whole life had been put on after Billy Rocks’ restaurant had opened.

He saw Billy open his mouth to say something, then paused, closing it again he eyed Goody.

“What would be useful to you?” Billy asked. Goody was so taken aback he didn’t reply, just stared at him in confusion. So Billy continued:

“It’s not as if I can just pick up and move out. Not that it will matter. Bogue’s bought up half the street already, his plans are going through whether my restaurant is here or not.”

“How much did Vasquez find out before he and Faraday started fighting?” Goody asked surprised.

“Almost nothing,” Billy said. “I had a conversation with Harp today,” his face scrunched up a little in disgust or some other emotion Goody couldn’t quite read. “On the phone,” Billy said, and Goody started to suspect the strain in the man’s voice was restrained anger. 

“He said he didn’t want to talk face to face in a place where I had ready access to very sharp knives.” Billy scoffed. “He told me all about the plans, and the payout he was expecting from Bogue, for luring me here.” 

Billy looked away, his body which had been rather relaxed earlier now looked stiff and there was something about his bearing which reminded Goody of his past, of seeing his competition on the other side of the ring, all that tightly restrained power and skill just waiting to be released. Goody swallowed hard.

“He used me,” Billy muttered. Clearly not meaning for Goody to hear him, rather he seemed wrapped up in his own mind. After a second though he seemed to shake himself out of it and looked at Goody again.

“Without Bogue there’s no reason why my restaurant and yours couldn’t have co-existed. If- and I am quoting Vaquez now- we just stopped our _silly_ feud.”

Goody raised an eyebrow.

“Silly?” Goody said. “And here I thought it was deadly serious.”

“Oh, I am not the one calling it silly,” Billy said.

“Healthy competition is good for the soul, and for business” Goody said, and noted the way Billy was nodding along. “I’ve been trying to teach this to Faraday, who also for some strange reason seems to be in agreement with your sous-chef.”

“I have a very strong suspicion that my sous-chef and yours may in fact be in contact with each other _secretly_ ,” Billy said and smiled, though it was so slight it was more like a smirk and Goody’s stomach did that strange twisting feeling again it had done the first time he saw Billy Rocks.

“So you’ve also noticed something,” Goody said, his tone light. “It was mighty strange that Faraday just happened to acquire a cooler of crawfish the same day you went and bought every shellfish available.”

“Very strange indeed,” Billy said, smirk widening into a grin for a second before he schooled his expression into something looking more like fake innocence and curiosity. “Was the cooler pink? Because a pink cooler seems to have mysteriously vanished from my restaurant.”

“Now that you mention it, I believe it was,” Goody said biting back a grin.

“Similarly my sous-chef was able to scrounge up some flowers when you had gone and bought everything.”

“ _You don’t say_ ,” Goody said. Billy started laughing, pulling Goody along into the unexpected merry feeling. 

It was strange standing there on the pavement laughing with the man he considered his rival, but once the laughter started it was hard to stop, because thinking back, perhaps they had been somewhat silly.

Goody turned away to collect himself, and he could hear Billy do the same as the quiet chuckles died away.

“So,” Billy started after a few minutes of silence. “What are you going to do?”

“About what- Faraday and Vasquez going behind our backs and befriending each other?”

“Not what I meant.”

“They are probably not very friendly anymore after yesterday from what I hear now,” Goody said thoughtful.

“Yeah,” Billy said with a sigh. “Vasquez would kill me if I said he seemed hurt, so I’m just gonna say he was offended that Faraday thought Vasquez had anything to do with what’s going on with the street.”

“I’ll tell Faraday to apologize,” Goody said. He didn’t think he had even implied that Billy Rocks was directly involved in what was happening, but maybe he had unintentionally made it seem like he thought so? Or maybe he hadn’t realized he’d felt that way and Faraday had picked up on it. He couldn’t be sure, but it would probably not hurt to have him apologize after all: “Can’t really have our sous-chefs fighting each other, we’ve never even taken our feud that far.”

“Of course if we had had a fist fight then it would have been entirely okay for them to have one as well.” Billy said, mouth quirking up at the corners. Goody nodded with a crooked smile. They were silent for a beat, and Goody wondered if he was supposed to turn around and head home, when Billy’s expression turned serious again.

“What are you going to do about Bogue?” Billy asked, “Or are you giving up?” His voice pree from inflection and face expressionless as he asked.

“Are you _trying_ to pick a fight with me now?” Goody asked incredulous.

“What? No,” Billy said. “I just said I can’t believe you’d give up.”

“You saying _‘are you giving up’_ without a hint of feeling in your voice and with no expression was you expressing disbelief?”

“People tell me I don’t have the best interpersonal skills,” Billy said with a shrug.

“I can’t imagine why they’d say that,” Goody said.

“Are _you_ trying to pick a fight now?”

Goody stared at him and then noticed the way the corner of Billy’s mouth was twitching, as if he was holding back a grin. Goody started smiling a little despite himself, and shook his head tipping his head forward.

“I think I have enough battles in front of me,” Goody said. He sighed and tilted his head back, looking towards the darkened sky instead. “Though it’s not a fight I have any experience with.” Without really thinking about what he was doing he continued: “I don’t even know where to start or how to do it, but I made a promise to Faraday and Red.”

“Would-” Billy started. “Would you like some help?”

Goody looked at him surprised.

“I’m not sure I can be of any help,” Billy said, “and it is rather selfishly motivated as I really don’t like that I was used this way,” he sounded annoyed now, frowning and looking away from Goody. “I don’t want to be the reason for all those people forced out of their homes.”

Goody watched him closely, and he did seem sincere.

“I don’t think I am in a position to refuse any help given, regardless of who or their motivations,” Goody said.

He looked away again.

“Though it will be a battle with very few advantages in our favor.”

“Real people don’t say stuff like that,” Billy said.

“What’s wrong with the way I talk?” Goody asked, slightly flustered. He watched Billy take a breath, but then started shaking his head.

“Nothing, nevermind.”

Goody gave him a suspicious look but decided to let it slide. He really should start thinking about heading home.

“You should come by my place after closing tomorrow,” Goody threw out before thinking much of it. “We’ll make a battle plan.”

“Aren’t I banned?”

“I’ll unban you.”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

Goody gave him an annoyed look, mainly because he knew how often he said those exact words to Faraday, and it was unfair to have them thrown back at himself.

“Do you or do you _not_ want seafood gumbo tomorrow evening?”

“I was hoping for Jambalaya.” Billy said.

“Huh?”

“That was supposed to be a joke,” Billy said. Goody just stared at him.

“People usually get used to me after a while,” Billy said.

“The only comfort right now is knowing Red is worse. He’ll probably frustrate even you.”

“Why am I not surprised that everyone working in your restaurant including you are in some way frustrating?”

“Maybe I was hasty in accepting your offer to help.”

“Well, you’ve already accepted so you can’t change your mind now,” Billy said and smiled.

It was an infectious smile, making Goody smile before he realized he was smiling.

“Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” Goody said.

~*~~*~~*~

“Roberto, you know how to do this, you’ve done it every day for a month,” Alejandro said patiently to the line cook standing in front of him, he’d been promoted a month earlier, apparently way too soon. Roberto held out the knife towards Alejandro.

“Show me again?”

“He just wants your attention,” Shauna one of the other line cooks said as she walked past them carrying a bag of potatoes, and trailed by two of her assistants. “Your crush is so obvious.”

“Shut up Shauna,” Roberto snapped. Alejandro thought he should get a medal for not sighing or looking up at the ceiling as if he was wishing he wasn’t there, though he did, very much wish he wasn’t right where he was. Here he had thought he’d done such a good job avoiding getting sucked into the kind of drama that sometimes developed between the line cooks and assistants.

He was just about to grab the knife from Roberto’s hand, if only to prevent any homicides, when his own arm was suddenly grabbed.

“I need to talk to you,” Faraday of all people said, and Alejandro turned, unable to hide his surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Alejandro asked, at the same time as a disappointed and annoyed Roberto asked: “How did you get in here?”

Faraday didn’t answer, but Alejandro let himself be tugged away from the kitchen only because he really wanted to get away from trying to once again show Roberto how to filet fish, even though the man knew how to do it already. It was thirty minutes before opening and Alejandro was already wondering if he would survive the day.

The pantry was thankfully empty - Alejandro wondered if Faraday had somehow known where the pantry was or had just opened a random door and pushed Alejandro inside, he was glad it wasn’t Emma’s office.

“What are you doing?” Alejandro asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance, but at the same time as he said it Faraday said: “Does that guy really have a crush on you?” he asked, incredulous.

“I’m desirable,” Alejandro defended himself, though he really hoped it wasn’t the case. It would only create an awkward situation if Alejandro had to turn him down since he wasn’t interested and also there were other ethical reasons since Alejandro was technically his boss. It would be uncomfortable, and Billy would judge Alejandro and accuse him of creating disharmony in his kitchen.

“That can’t be why you are here though,” Alejandro said, getting back on track, and glaring at Faraday.

“Right,” Faraday said, fidgeting. “Goody apparently found out about me arguing with you the other night.”

“When you punched me,” Alejandro added, he felt it was important.

“Yeah,” Faraday said not meeting his eyes. Alejandro crossed his arms. “Goody told me I should apologize about that.”

“You’re here because he told you?” Alejandro asked, beneath the anger there was something like disappointment settling the bottom of his gut and he wasn’t sure what that came from, had he really expected something. Faraday fidgeted again, still not looking at Vasquez.

The door opened and they both spun towards it where Billy was standing in the doorway with a surprised look on his face.

“Nevermind,” Billy mumbled and closed the door. It was silent for a second.

“Maybe,” Faraday mumbled. “Maybe not. I don’t know.”

“We are-were friends right?” Alejandro asked.

“Yes, of course,” Faraday said, finally looking at Alejandro’s face.

“Because it didn’t seem like you thought that the other night. Why though? Why would I befriend you if I really had been involved in what this Bogue guy is planning? You really think that little of me?”

“No, no,” Faraday protested. And Alejandro was almost glad to see the slightly desperate tension around Faraday’s eyes. “No, that wasn’t-” He stopped and bit his lip. “I overreacted, and wasn’t thinking okay.” He turned away, resting his hands against one of the shelves, hanging his head down and closing his eyes.

“Goody is… Goody is family,” Faraday said, still with his head low and eyes closed. “Not real family, but he might as well be. He cares. He cares about me and about Red and he shows it. And I want so bad to help because I want to repay him from picking me up from the gutter, even after I called him a cheater after I connected his name with his previous career. But there is nothing I can do for him, and it… It’s just been so frustrating and I am worried, but that is not an excuse for taking it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.” He straightened and looked at Alejandro. “I just… I want to say that I’m sorry.” He said, and he both sounded and looked so sincere it was difficult for Alejandro to not believe him entirely. And with that came the urge to forgive him, or at least try and move past it because he could understand where Faraday came from.

“I get it, sort of, you were just being loyal but-”

“I never actually believe you were deliberately trying to screw us over. I was just-” He sighed. “I was angry and not really thinking much at all.” He stared straight at Alejandro. “I want- wish we could move on and try again.”

“I thought you said Goody sent you here to apologize.”

Faraday looked away rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, I mean he did, but-” He took a deep breath. “Well. You know.”

“Try saying you missed me and you’re sorry for being an asshole,” Alejandro said unable to stop himself from smiling a little at how uncomfortable Faraday looked. They were silent for a little bit, and Alejandro was starting to think they both really should get back to work soon, but he needed to see this to the end or he thought he’d never get a real apology and he needed that. He deserved an apology.

“I’ve punched Goody too,” Faraday said, which was not what Alejandro was waiting to hear; though it was an interesting piece of information.

“Did he punch you back?”

“Do you want to punch me?” Faraday asked. “Because you can if you want.”

But Alejandro wasn’t sure he felt angry enough to punch him, not right at this moment. 

“I’ll take a rain check on the punch,” he said. “I’d like the apology now though.”

Faraday looked him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“And?” Alejandro prompted.

Faraday let out an annoyed noise and looked down at his feet.

“I missed you, I’ve actually enjoyed being friends with you and I’d like to continue that if you want to.”

“Maybe,” Alejandro said with affected disinterest.

“Maybe?” Faraday asked a note of uncertainty creeping into his voice.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“If you apologize for being an asshole or not.”

“I thought I just did.”

“No, you need to say it.”

Faraday shot him a look, and Alejandro smirked. Maybe if he hadn’t been pissed off he might have actually started missing Faraday.

“I am sorry for being an asshole and punching you.”

“Thank you.” Alejandro smiled.

“I really am sorry,” Faraday said. “You weren’t at fault and it was rude of me to imply you were.”

Alejandro nodded.

“For what it’s worth I’m sorry as well,” he said.

“For what?” Faraday asked.

“This whole shitty situation.”

“Yeah.” Faraday looked down at his feet again.

“You’ll tell me if there is anything I can do,” Alejandro said, and he meant it.

“Really?”

“That’s what friends do right?”

That got him a smile from Faraday.

“Thanks.” he said. “Anyway, I should get back to Goody. And you should probably make sure that line cook of yours hasn’t cut off all his fingers daydreaming about you.”

“Don’t say that,” Alejandro protested. “He’s not daydreaming about me. I do not want him thinking about me”

“Who do you want thinking about you?” Faraday asked, grinning like a loon.

“Go away Faraday,” Alejandro said with a heavy sigh and Faraday left, chuckling as he walked.

~*~~*~~*~

When Billy walked across the street he almost changed his mind about the whole thing. What could he even do to help? Besides it would probably be rather awkward anyway, but he steeled himself and continued walking.

He had felt guilty and angry, though the anger had mostly cooled down to a low simmer in his gut, and it had been mostly brought on by the fact that he had been used for something dirty like this. He knew he should have questioned the location and the timing more; Vasquez had been the only one who brought up the question early on, but Billy had been too wrapped up in preparations and worries about the opening.

Even outside the building he could smell the food from inside, and despite everything there was a sense of anticipation. He might have said that he was solely selfishly motivated, but it would be a shame if this restaurant shut down.

Ignoring the closed sign he pulled open the door since it wasn’t locked. Inside the lights were still on, giving the room a warm glow.

“We’re closed,” a voice Billy now recognized as Faraday said. The man was setting plates on the table in the corner where a man Billy didn’t know already sat, and the only other person in the room was their mohawked waiter who had been busy sweeping the floor but had stopped and was looking at Billy with a guarded expression.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a low voice.

“He didn’t tell you,” Billy stated matter of fact, and wondered for a moment if Goodnight had simply forgotten, or just assumed Billy wouldn’t show up. Something burned in his chest but he ignored it. “Goodnight invited me,” Billy said.

“What?” Faraday said, looking baffled then turned towards the kitchen and shouted: “Goody!”

A second later Goodnight came out carrying a large pot which he set down on the table. He turned his head and spotted Billy, a crooked smile on his lips, and Billy felt like his stomach twisted, he blamed it on being hungry.

“You’re just in time,” Goodnight said.

“You invited him?” Faraday said, still sounding confused.

“He wanted to help,” Goodnight said with a shrug. “I’m in no position to refuse.”

Faraday opened his mouth but the waiter was faster and said: “Is this why you’ve been acting so weird today?” Goodnight looked over at him for a second and then shook his head before turning towards Faraday and said: “This here’s Faraday,” he said and looked over at Billy while putting a hand on Faraday’s shoulder. “That’s Red, and the man sitting here in the booth pretending he’s completely cool and collected and not at all surprised is Sam Chisholm, I always said he should have gone into acting instead.”

“Nice meeting you,” Sam said, raising his glass of coke in Billy’s direction.

“You didn’t bring Faraday’s secret friend?” Goodnight asked. Faraday’s head whipped in Goodnight’s direction, but he was looking at Billy and ignoring Faraday.

“I didn’t know if the invitation included him as well,” Billy said. He had told Vasquez, but they both had agreed that it would probably be better if Vasquez didn’t come, even though Billy had kind of wanted him to, at least with Vasquez there he could probably avoid any awkward situations that might arise.

“Oh well, let’s sit and eat,” Goodnight said.

Red sat down first opposite from Sam in the booth. Billy watched Faraday nudge Goodnight in the direction of Red, and Goodnight took the seat next to him. Faraday dragged over a chair to the end of the table, but instead of sitting in it he pushed Goodnight closer to Red and sat down next to them so that they were all three pushed together. Billy mentally shrugged and sat down on the chair. He watched Goodnight who was looking slightly bewildered at Faraday, reminding Billy very much of a confused puppy, and he reminded himself that he did not in fact find that kind of cute.

“Why aren’t you sitting with Sam?” Goodnight asked. It was a valid question Billy thought, since Sam had the whole bench seat on the other side to himself, and Goodnight looked a bit cramped between both Red and Faraday.

“I think your kids are being a little protective,” Sam said, there was a small amused smile on his lips. Billy felt a little bit offended, and wondered what exactly they were thinking they were protecting Goodnight from. Goodnight looked even more confused, and turned to Faraday again.

“Why are you being ridiculous?” Goodnight asked, but Faraday suddenly had a phone to his ear and didn’t answer instead he said into the phone: “Why would you let your boss walk alone into enemy camp?”

Billy raised his eyebrows realizing that Faraday must be talking to Vasquez.

“Get your ass over here.”

“First order of business,” Goodnight said when Faraday hung up. “Should be discussing you fraternizing with the enemy.” Faraday pouted. Goodnight pushed him out of the seat.

“Go sit with Sam.”

“I thought I was here to help,” Billy said, “not be called an enemy.”

“Right you are, we are joining forces to fight a greater enemy,” Goodnight said. “But first, food.”

“And then a truce?” Sam said. Goodnight nodded.

Vasquez arrived soon with Emma in tow - she must have heard and insisted on coming - with the introductions done and more chairs pulled up to the table they started eating and talking. 

Vasquez and Faraday started up a lighthearted conversation so easily it really showed how they had been talking behind their backs for a while; apparently whatever conversation they’d had in Billy’s pantry earlier that day had resulted in Vasquez forgiving Faraday and them deciding to be friendly again.

Goody and Sam were talking as well, and to Billy's surprise Emma joined in with the conversation without a problem, despite having just met them. Billy was reminded that there had been a very good reason he chose her to deal with the public. 

Billy sat and ate in silence, as did Red, but even though Billy was silent he didn't feel awkward about it, instead there was a comforting and calm feeling settling in his chest, which he attributed to the food and the mood of the others, He didn't need to speak and was content in just observing.

He listened to Faraday making a loud joke and and everyone laughed, Billy couldn't stop himself from smiling a little as well. While everyone was laughing Faraday reached across the table to steal some food from Goody's plate, only to have Goody bat his hand away with a smile on his own face, crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

Billy hadn't known that this kind of company had been something he missed, but sitting there he couldn't help enjoying it all, and if he hadn't already promised to help this certainly helped cement his resolve.

It was with a sense of disappointment when the conversation turned to the topic they had all gathered for. The smiling and laughing turned into serious expressions and solemn tones as they all discussed the situation at hand and their very limited options. Faraday suggested punching Bogue as a solution, only Red and Vasquez were in favor of that plan, at least out loud. Billy had a feeling Goodnight would be okay with that plan, personally he himself liked it too, it just wouldn’t solve anything really

“Maybe you don’t have to be the only ones responsible,” Emma suggested eventually. “There might be more residents on the street willing to fight.”

“What are you thinking?” Goody asked.

“I’m not sure, but something that would draw interest in the street.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Something like a fair, perhaps. A street fair. If you get the other shop owners to go along with it.”

“She’s got a good point,” Red said, the first time he had said something instead of just eating in silence. “Showing that the street is still alive,” he shrugged. “That might be worth a shot.”

~*~

Dinner together had been interesting, despite the gloom hanging over them, and now they were walking home. After their first meetings Billy would never have imagined that he’d end up walking home from the restaurant side by side with Goodnight Robicheaux but when they finished dinner Goodnight had said: _“we’re heading in the same direction anyway, would be stranger not to walk together”_. 

It was only for a block or so, Billy had thought imagining how otherwise he’d be walking ahead and Goodnight trailing behind him.

They were walking in silence, which was a little bit awkward, Goodnight had spoken a lot during the meeting, not just to the group at large, but also the occasional aside to Billy whenever one of the others - mostly Faraday and Vasquez - went off on a tangent. Now he was silent however, and Billy was hesitant. There was something niggling in his mind, a question that had been left unasked, but asking might upset the tentative peace they had reached.

It was bothering him though, being naturally silent and not very involved in the actual conversation left him with a lot of time to observe and analyze, and the way Goodnight spoke about Bogue, the little details he let slip, as well as the things Sam had mentioned; the more Billy turned it all around in his mind made him believe there was a connection there that they weren’t discussing openly, it was stirring Billy’s curiosity however. Was there a reason behind Bogue choosing this particular street? After all Billy’s other restaurants where not even in the same state, and suddenly Harp suggested he start his next restaurant in another state and on this particular street.

They continued walking.

“Is there a connection?” Billy asked eventually. Goodnight could just chose not to answer if he didn’t want to. Billy continued: “Between you and Bogue I mean.”

Goodnight was silent for a beat. Billy glanced at him in the light from the street lamps, his jaw clenched and a far away look in his eyes, before he shook his head with a sigh.

“It’s a long story,” Goodnight said. “Starting way before I opened the restaurant, and it should have ended there as well.” He sighed.

“Is it connected to why you quit boxing?” Billy asked. “The scandal.”

Goodnight turned his head to look at Billy.

“I’m starting to understand why you had to hire someone to deal with public relations,” he said. Goodnight seemed to be about to say something else, so Billy didn’t say anything, but the pause stretched out into a long silence as they kept walking.

“I haven’t even properly discussed it with Faraday and Red,” Goodnight said eventually, looking straight ahead of them.

“Sometimes it can be easier to talk about difficult things with a stranger,” Billy said, which made Goodnight look at him.

“I suppose so,” he paused again, and Billy wondered if he would get the story out of the man or if he was stalling until they had to part ways. At least he didn’t seem pissed off at Billy for asking about it. Perhaps he wanted to talk about it.

“The first time I met Bogue he only owned a little real estate in Vegas, of course even a few buildings was enough for him to be plenty rich, but he was always more ambitious. He also was more interested in boxing.”

“ _Could have been a pro_ , he always told me,” Goodnight said, lowering his voice slightly as he said it, as if he was attempting to mimic him, though Billy had never heard the man speak so couldn’t be sure. “Injured his shoulder apparently,” Goodnight continued in his own voice. “Anyway, he decided his side business would be to manage a couple of fighters, me included. His second in command McCann brought me over to Vegas.”

“I won a few fights.” Goodnight smiled a little, Billy’s stomach twisting a little at the sight. “More than a few to be honest,” he added. “I was young and cocky back then.”

Billy decided not to point out that he still came off as cocky.

“So the first time I was asked to throw a fight I ignored it and won anyway.”

His smile slipped away and Billy was disappointed to see it go.

“I was quickly shown why I shouldn’t ignore orders,” he looked down at his hands, bending and stretching out his fingers. “I had to pay back what I lost him when I won.”

He scoffed. “And I did pay him back,” he said voice filled with earnesty. “I owed him nothing when it came out that I had been throwing matches, and all the betting was pinned on me anyway and nothing on Bogue.”

“I owe him _nothing_ ,” Goodnight repeated and then scoffed. “But apparently he isn’t going to be happy unless I am destitute.” He sighed. “Everything happening here, all of the people’s homes and livelihoods threatened because of me.”

Goodnight stopped at an intersection and Billy did too, turning to face him.

“I didn’t mean to be so melodramatic,” Goodnight said apologetically. Billy wasn’t sure what to say, still wrapping his brain around what Goodnight had told him. All that responsibility the man seemed to bring upon himself when it seemed clear as day who the one really responsible was.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” Billy said.

“Then who else?”

“Bogue.”

Goodnight stared at him, expressionless and turned away.

“I fear it is a shared blame,” Goodnight said, and then nodded in the direction of the other street. “This is where we part ways,” he said, “I hope I didn’t bore you too much.”

Billy was about to say no, when Goodnight turned and started walking away.

“Goodnight,” Billy called out and he turned around again to look at Billy.

“We are going to beat him,” Billy said, putting as much conviction as he could into his tone of voice. For a moment it looked like Goodnight was going to express doubt, but he stayed quiet studying Billy’s face, and then closed his eyes, ducking his head a little with a hint of a crooked smile and crows feet at his eyes. Billy’s stomach felt like it twisted strangely.

“I think you should call me Goody,” Goodnight said, instead of responding to what Billy had said.

“Then you have to call me Billy.”

“Alright, Billy,” Goody said, a strange shiver going down his spine at the sound of his name, which he promptly ignored. “Let’s hope for luck in our joint endeavour.”

“I’ve always been a lucky man,” Billy said.

“Perhaps it can outweigh my bad luck then,” Goody said.

“Good night, Goody,” Billy said.

“Good night,” Goody said, and smiled.

~*~~*~~*~

Alejandro was doing a final inspection of the kitchen after it had been cleaned and all the staff had gone home for the evening, when Emma walked back inside the restaurant with Billy in tow and she loudly proclaimed: “Never again.”

Curious Alejandro left the kitchen and mer her. Late in the afternoon she had grabbed Billy and dragged him out of the restaurant with the words _“we are introducing ourselves to the neighbors, and bringing Robicheaux along to talk about the fair with everyone.”_ This had of course been met with protests from Billy, but Emma had never listened to his protests in the past, so of course she wouldn’t suddenly listen to them now.

“What happened?” Alejandro asked.

“They,” she said, and waved towards Billy who strolled up behind her, Alejandro assumed that she was also talking about chef Robicheaux. She continued: “they never stopped arguing with each other.”

“We weren’t arguing,” Billy protested. “We were simply discussing things.” He looked at her with wide fake-innocent eyes. “Would you rather we stay silent and didn’t talk at all?”

“No… yes… maybe?” Emma said, half to herself, half to Billy. “It would have been better than the incessant bickering.”

“It’s only been two days since we decided to join forces,” Alejandro said. Putting a comforting hand on Emma’s shoulder. “There was bound to be a bumpy transition period until they mature enough.” He ignored the look Billy shot him.

“I think I’ll go alone for the rest of the street,” Emma said.

“No, you can’t,” Billy protested. “I have to go.” He said with a great deal of conviction.

Alejandro couldn’t hide his surprise. As long as he had known Billy he had never actually wanted to be the face of his restaurants, preferring Emma dealing with that. But he had already started to prove that he was invested in this making phone calls and planning along with Emma, so perhaps it made sense that he would want to be part of this aspect of the preparations as well.

Emma sighed and Alejandro squeezed her shoulder.

“Should we call Matthew and have him come over?” Alejandro asked, despite the two never really seeing each other these days due to the long distance relationship it had turned into they were still very close.

His suggestion made her smile a little.

“No need, but thank you for the thought.” She looked at Alejandro. “You can head over to Goody’s for dinner, I’ll finish up here.”

Alejandro nodded and turned to Billy, but he shook his head.

“I have a few phone calls I need to make, and then I’m heading straight home.”

Alejandro nodded and left. This would be the third dinner in a row at Goody’s, he was quite happy about it. He liked the atmosphere over there as well as the food, and he already knew he liked hanging out with Faraday, but Red was also surprisingly good company the few times he spoke. It was a great deal better than before, and he would like to keep it this way.

~*~~*~~*~

Jack Horne sold homemade furniture out of a small shop a few buildings down the street. The shop floor crammed full of ornate pieces of furniture all of them with beautiful carvings in the wood, and a strong smell of wood, sawdust, and lacquer.

The sign on the door had said “closed for lunch” but Goodnight had walked inside anyway, and now Billy and Emma followed him through the store weaving between chairs, tables and three huge closets with the doors having the most detailed carvings and looked like the sort of closets you’d walk straight through to Narnia.

They exited through a backdoor and came out into circular yard surrounded by the shop building, filled with material for furniture, underneath the awning were machines, a shed stood opposite from them and in the middle of the yard stood for some reason a bathtub.

While Goodnight started calling Jack’s name Billy walked closer to the bathtub, but took a surprised step back when he saw the contents.

“Saved them from poachers,” said the man coming out of the shed. Billy looked down into the tub again. Half of it had been filled with water and in it swam two alligator babies, rocks had been placed in one end of the tub and stuck up out of the water, a third smaller alligator was lying on the rocks.

“That’s the runt,” Horne said pointing at the one on the rock. “Can’t leave her alone or she’ll get bullied by the other two.”

Billy continued looking at them and didn’t notice when Goodnight came up behind him, until suddenly the man spoke and was much closer than Billy had expected.

“When he says he saved them from poachers he leaves out the fact that he really saved them by beating up the poachers.”

Horne made a protesting sound, and Billy looked up at the large man who looked like he was blushing.

“You make it seem so violent and brutal,” he said. “It was nothing like that,” he said reassuringly, and turned towards Emma who had been hanging back but now stepped forward and launched into introductions of her and Billy and then started talking about the fair. Billy looked down at the alligators, Goody standing next to him very close, their arms brushing against each other. 

This would be the last store for the day, Goody could only be gone from his place for a short while, and really Billy shouldn’t be gone for much longer either. Maybe it would make more sense for Emma to do this alone, but Billy had a feeling that bringing along Goody was smoothing things out considerably, considering he was always met with a smile and a cheerful hello. Billy might not have the best people skills, but even he could figure out that it would set a better example for his restaurant if he visited in person as well.

He turned around to face Horne as did Goody, and they joined the conversation as well.

~*~~*~~*~

Alejandro was about to open the door to Goody’s when he heard Faraday’s voice in the alley next to the restaurant, curious he walked towards the opening of the alley and spotted Faraday leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and an unreadable expression on his face, in front of him stood a teenager fidgeting, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Mom could probably help,” the teen said. Faraday snorted and looked down at the ground. “She could write something,” the teenager said, sounding insistent.

“Don’t concern yourself too much kid,” Faraday said looking at boy. “We’ll handle it ourselves.”

“But-”

“I’m not going to ask her for any favors.” 

Faraday held up a finger when the boy opened his mouth again. “And you don’t need to go talking to her either. It’s none of your business.”

Alejandro saw the kid bite his lip and he looked like he was about to say something when Faraday turned his head to the side and spotted Alejandro.

“Vasquez,” Faraday called out and pushed away from the wall. The teen turned as well to face Alejandro, and getting a closer look at his face there was something familiar about his features, but he couldn’t quite figure out why.

“You here for dinner?” Faraday asked.

“Yeah,” Alejandro started, but before he could apologize for interrupting, Faraday who looked mostly relieved had turned to the teenage boy again. “Hurry home, they are probably wondering where you’re at.” The boy hesitated and for a moment looked like he was about to say something but then sighed and shook his head. He left silently, and Alejandro watched Faraday with a strange indecipherable look on his face watch the boy go, before he turned back to Alejandro, plastering on a smile on his face that looked half fake.

“You hungry?” Faraday asked.

“Sue,” Alejandro said, but curiosity got the better of him. “Who was that?”

Faraday sighed and looked away.

“Just this kid I know.” He looked at Alejandro again, “Shall we head inside?”

Alejandro didn’t move, if Faraday refused again then he would let him drop it, but one thing he had learned from dealing with Billy was to wait until the words started flowing reluctantly. They stood silent for a beat and then Faraday put a hand on the back of his neck, bit his lip and looked down at the ground, Alejandro almost laughed at how obvious Faraday’s body language could be.

“We have the same dad,” Faraday said with a heavy sigh and he looked back at Alejandro. “His name’s Daniel, he’s not even 18 yet and doesn’t want to deal with his own problems so he decided he should try and get involved in my issues.”

Alejandro restrained himself from commenting that perhaps Faraday needed someone who got involved in his issues.

“What was that about his mother?” Alejandro asked instead. Faraday scoffed.

“It’s nothing.”

Alejandro raised an eyebrow.

“She’s a journalist,” Faraday said, and Alejandro was relieved at how much easier it was getting this man to talk compared to Billy.

“Works at the local paper.”

“You know he might have a point,” Alejandro said. “She could probably help.”

That earned him a predictable and unsurprising annoyed look from Faraday.

“There is no way I am asking that woman for anything,” Faraday said. And Alejandro could sort of understand, or as much as he could possibly understanding knowing so little of Faraday’s history, but at the same time he couldn’t help thinking of how much they were all working for this one goal, how much Billy was working, calling people asking for favors, things he would normally avoid doing, all to try and save a street they’d only been working on for a few months. And here was Faraday willing to throw away an opportunity for what, pride?

“Shouldn’t we be using every advantage we have?” Alejandro asked and turned around to leave.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Faraday said, “but this is who I am.”

“Are you really?” Alejandro said, half turning back to face Faraday before leaving, deciding to skip dinner this evening and just going home.

~*~~*~~*~

Josh had been worried things would be awkward between him and Vasquez the following evening, or that Vasquez simply wouldn’t show up for dinner. But after closing he did show up, with Billy in tow.

“He’s been busy,” Vasquez explained to Red, loud enough for Josh to hear in the kitchen, and he didn’t even think Red had asked why Billy hadn’t been around after the first dinner together. “He’s been rounding up people he knows running food trucks.”

“I am still not sure we need that,” Goody said as he walked out into the main room in front of Faraday, the two of them carrying plates.

“Oh, no don’t start arguing about that again. Emma told me you two spent twenty minutes arguing about it, and I don’t need to hear it.”

“It wasn’t twenty minutes,” both Billy and Goody grumbled.

They sat down and it fell silent as they all started eating, and this was the kind of awkward Josh had been worried about, because usually he would joke around with Vasquez to lift the mood, but now he wasn’t sure what he could say to the man. So instead he decided to talk to Billy.

“Did you hear the idea about a collaboration?”

“I did,” Billy said, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth. Next to him Vasquez wasn’t even slowing down to listen. He had bent down to be closer to the plate to make it easier to shovel food into his mouth. Josh couldn’t stop watching in fascination at how fast he was eating, he wondered why he was always eating like he’d been starving for days.

“We should use my kitchen,” Billy said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Goody said where he sat next to Josh. “My kitchen is much better suited to do it in.”

“But if we do it in mine-”

“Nobody should be doing anybody in any kitchen,” Vasquez suddenly interrupted. Goody who had just taken a sip of water choked and started coughing. Josh started laughing while trying to clap Goody on the back. He wondered if Vasquez had even been listening to the conversation, but then he glanced up at Josh and winked a teasing smile playing on his lips, which only made Josh laugh harder.

“What?” Billy asked, incredulous turning to Vasquez.

“What?” Vasquez said, tone completely innocent. “What were you two talking about?”

“I think,” started Goody who had recovered from his coughing fit, but looking a little red on his cheeks. “The question is, what did you think we were talking about?”

“I don’t think their relationship is quite there yet,” Josh said. Goody turned to face him.

“What do you mean by _yet_?”

“Anyway,” Billy said, sounding like he was trying to get them back on track, which worked because Goody turned right back to him and opened his mouth and started talking before Billy.

“It makes much more sense if we are in my restaurant. Most of the produce will be from here anyway won’t it?”

Josh could see Billy hesitating and he had a feeling the reason both of them were hesitant was the idea of working in someone else’s kitchen. It might be as awkward as Josh had feared it would be seeing Vasquez again. 

He bit his lip, mind once again coming back to the idea of contacting his step-mom, he got why it might seem like a no big deal and something he should be doing if he wanted to do whatever it took to save the restaurant, but it wasn’t that easy. Or perhaps he was just telling himself it was difficult and he just didn’t want to admit that it was about his pride.

~*~~*~~*~

The collaboration had been suggested by someone - Goody couldn’t remember who it had been, but he knew it hadn’t been him or Billy - and been agreed on by everyone - except him and Billy who - again - had had no input in the matter; all of which explained why Billy Rocks was in Goody’s kitchen, wearing an apron, hair net and a serious expression.

They hadn’t had the best start, considering that it took them twenty minutes of heated discussion just to decide on what dish to work on. After the discussion ended there had been the incident where Billy had the gall to critique Goody’s knife technique; but they had managed to move past it without any bloodshed.

Goody suspected that Billy probably hadn’t appreciated Goody’s rather passionate and detailed history and merits of traditional Cajun food - even Faraday had stuck his head back in the kitchen after having been banished to the front room to tell Goody he had been going on on the subject for ten minutes and when would the actual cooking begin?

Once they had settled on each task, they started working in their respective corner of the kitchen in silence with only the usual sounds that filled the kitchen; knives cutting through vegetables and meat on the cutting boards; whisks and spoons mixing ingredients in bowls. Goody could even forget that it was Billy Rocks standing there and not Faraday. Soon the air filled with the sounds of simmering, boiling pots and sizzling frying pans; and they started bickering over seasoning even though Goody thought they had already settled it before they started.

After a brief discussion, where Faraday at no point stepped inside the kitchen to tell them to stop arguing, they settled the matter again and continued working.

As Goody was rinsing off his knives a spoon was suddenly thrust in front of his face and wen he looked to his side he saw Billy standing there, that serious intense look on his face. He still looked so prim in his spotless apron and with hair held in place, he didn’t even look like he was sweating despite the temperature in the kitchen.

Goody leaned forward and closed his lips around the spoon, noting before he closed his eyes a strange look flitting across Billy’s face.

“You could have taken the spoon from me,” Billy mumbled. Goody pulling away from the spoon focused instead on the food in his mouth. The gumbo had a new spiciness to it, balanced out with an unexpected sweetness; Goody had agreed to Billy's suggested seasoning, using spices he had carried across the street from his own kitchen - blending in Cajun and Korean. Goody licked his lips and opened his eyes to see Billy still standing there with an expectant look on his face. Goody was about to say something when suddenly Faraday shouted from the front room:

“I haven’t heard you guys arguing for a bit, you better not be fucking back there!”

All of a sudden Goody was very aware of how close they were standing, when Billy flinched and took a half step back, and Goody could feel his own cheeks heating up slightly, for no good reason.

“Jesus Christ,” Goody groaned and turned away. Thankful it was after closing and they didn’t have any customers.

Billy walked back towards the pots.

“It tastes good,” Goody said.

“Only good?” Billy asked, turning around to look at Goody again.

“What do you want to hear?” Goody asked.

“Something a little bit more enthusiastic.”

“It tastes great?” Goody said and grinned.

“Can I try it?” Faraday asked from the doorway.

“Not yet,” Billy said, he was opening cupboard doors and looking inside and then closing them again, so he didn’t see Faraday pout.

“Whatever,” Faraday said. “Sam and Red are here, we’re still waiting for Vasquez and Emma.

“I’m here on my day off,” Red shouted. “This better taste amazing!”

“Amazing, that’s a word you could have used,” Billy said, pointedly. “You were being so flowery before, what happened to all those words?” He looked at Goody over his shoulder.

“What are you looking for?” Goody asked instead.

“Plates,” Billy said, looking inside another cupboard.

“Over here,” Goody said walking over to another shelf, and started taking down the plates. He turned around and flinched because Billy was suddenly standing right behind him.

“Hell, you are worse than Red,” Goody muttered. Billy raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything just took the plates and went over to the pot and started ladling the stew onto the plates. Goody walked over as well.

“Not very generous are we?” Goody asked eyeing the portion size, it looked a bit small.

“The plates are too big,” Billy said with a shrug, and started sprinkling red, white and pink blossoms as garnish.

“I don’t think the fault lies with the plates,” Goody said, but before they could get into another discussion Faraday followed by Vasquez entered the kitchen and picked up the finished plates.

“Come on,” Faraday said, “Let’s eat.”

Goody picked up a plate of deep fried squash blossoms that had made a reappearance after Billy reluctantly admitted he liked that idea.

“This doesn’t look as experimental as I thought it would,” Sam said when they put the food on the table.

“Baby steps,” Billy said. Goody shot him a look but he didn’t notice.

“Tomorrow I’m thinking we’ll make crawfish and lime croquettes.”

“That doesn’t sound very radical either,” Vasquez said.

Billy gave Vasquez an annoyed look, but Vasquez just grinned.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Goody said, he still wanted the food to be recognizable as his rather than something that looked like it could never have come from his kitchen.

“I prefer it this way,” Goody added.

“I do too,” Billy said with a shrug, surprising Goody. Perhaps this collaboration would work out after all.

~*~~*~~*~

Billy was almost barrelled over when he opened the door to the apartment building and an over-excited German Shepherd was coming back inside the apartment building. Billy had never been a huge fan of dogs and stepped back inside and the the side to press his back against the wall, but the young dog with ears too large for its head was too overjoyed at meeting another person and came up to Billy with its tail wagging and started licking Billy’s hands. 

Billy just stood there for a second before tentatively petting the dog’s head. The dog’s tail sped up even more, its whole body wagging along before the dog’s owner, a young girl came inside and immediately started apologizing, grabbing the dog’s leash and pulling it away from Billy.

“I’m so sorry!” She said. Panting a little, while the dog tried to jump up on her. “It’s my girlfriend’s dog, and he doesn’t always listen to me.”

Billy opened his mouth to reassure her he had just been surprised, when another girl wearing running clothes came through the door and immediately swooped in on the first girl, pressing a quick kiss on her cheek.

“He just took off,” the first girl grumbled.

“I saw,” the other girl, her girlfriend apparently, said with a smile. “You looked too adorable chasing after him like that.”

The first girl pouted. At her feet the dog was pulling at the leash again, once more trying to come and say hello to Billy.

Billy meanwhile felt like he was intruding, but he also couldn’t leave because the couple and their dog were standing right in front of the door and there wasn’t an easy way to slip past them.

“You could have helped, not just laughed at me,” the girl said.

Warring with the awkwardness he was feeling there was also a tightening in his chest, and he tried hard not to think about how long it had been since he was last in a relationship - it had been years - tried not to think about the casual affection of a kiss on the cheek, the playful teasing, and having someone there for you at the end of a long day.

“Um.” Billy coughed a little, gaining their attention. They immediately apologized before hurrying upstairs and Billy could finally leave. 

As he headed towards the market he tried to think of something else and without meaning to his mind strayed to Goodnight Robicheaux and cooking with the man the previous evening. 

Despite all their differences and wildly diverging opinions it had in Billy’s opinion gone surprisingly well. Vasquez joking about how maybe they should make food that didn’t require knives just to be safe had of course never been a serious concern, but Billy had still been a little worried that they would end up fighting and ruining the progress. However, despite the impression Goodnight gave off the man could be professional and they had worked along rather well, perhaps because they had both done the actual cooking in silence.

~*~~*~~*~

Mary-Anne greeted Goody cheerfully with a smile and a wave when he came over to her corner of the market in the morning, and she started packing his order before he even finished saying “ _good morning._ ” 

He stopped a foot away from her counter, a respectful distance from Ajax the cat who simply twisted one ear in his direction before studiously ignoring him, the cat didn’t even swipe at him with claws extended when he paid, which was a nice change from the usual.

With coolers full of fish and shellfish he started making his way out of the market when suddenly he spotted Billy Rocks a short distance ahead of him, pulling a cart with two coolers, and Goody hesitated unsure if he should approach the man or not. In the end he thought about the reason they had walked home together a few evenings ago, so he called out “Chef Rocks!” they were heading in the same direction after all.

Billy Rocks turned around and spotted Goody, he didn’t smile, but he also didn’t look unhappy about seeing Goodnight.

“I thought we agreed on you calling me Billy?” he said when Goody caught up with him.

“He’s also called Billy,” Goody said pointing to a man close by who was selling deep fried catfish. Billy nodded, and then without saying anything and without Goody asking, Billy made room in the cart for Goody’s coolers.

“You sure you want to pull all of it yourself?” Goody asked as they started walking. Billy gave Goody a deeply unimpressed look.

“Do you think I look like I can’t?” Billy asked. Goody glanced at Billy’s arm and how tight the sleeve of his black tee strained around his arm. Goody swallowed.

“No.”

~*~~*~~*~

The only reason Josh was standing on the pavement outside the office of the newspaper was because of Sam’s words lingering in his mind: _“he’s working hard isn’t he?”_ and a nod in Goody’s direction, _“he’s looking a bit tired.”_ Confirming what Josh had already noticed, but tried not to notice. Goody was working hard preparing, but more than that he was fretting and worrying which was obviously wearing him down. And what was Josh doing?

Vasquez seemed to have decided to not bring it up again, and just treated Josh like usual but he knew the other man was judging him, but he wasn’t going to concede that it might be part of the reason he was here steeling himself so as to not turn tail and walk away. 

He took a deep breath. A stray thought flitted past in his mind that Goody didn’t even know Josh was here - neither did Vasquez - and Goody probably wouldn’t have asked this of him anyway, so unused to ask for help. Josh could turn away now and neither Goody nor Vasquez would know - Vasquez would secretly go on judging him, but what did that matter if their restaurant was shut down in the near future.

The only ones who knew he was coming was his step-brother, who Josh had texted so that Daniel could tell his mother Josh was coming. He could simply text him again and say that something came up and then leave, no harm done.

Before he could talk himself into leaving he took a step forward instead, and after that the rest of the steps became easier and easier as he entered the building and soon, perhaps too soon he stood outside the door to her office, the name Samantha Cole on a little sign next to the door. She had taken Josh’s father’s last name after marriage while Josh had changed to his mother’s last name, and why he preferred to be called Faraday, a piece of his mother living on with him.

He hesitated for a beat before knocking on the door.

“Come in.”

Josh could probably count on one hand the number of times he had met his father’s new wife. After his mother’s death he had been sent to live with his father, without anyone asking him if he wanted to. Hurting from his loss he ran away from the house until eventually he was sent to his grandparents for a time before he became an emancipated teen and lived on his own without any contact with his father and his family.

He entered the office, Samantha rising from her chair and her smile looking nervous and strained as she held out her hand to him. Blonde hair put up in a tight bun.

“Joshua,” she said and Josh gave her a perfunctory handshake, smiling a little as well, knowing he probably seemed just as awkward.

“Sit, please,” she said, and pointed at one of the chairs, and Josh considered declining, telling her this wouldn’t take long and he’d just as well, stand up, but he didn’t want to make the whole situation more awkward than it already was. He sat down and she did as well, picking up a pen and fiddling with it and Josh’s eyes were drawn to it instead of her face.

“You look a lot alike,” Samantha said. “Both take off after your father.”

Josh tensed at the mention of him and continued staring at the way she kept fiddling with the pen.

“Daniel told me a little about what’s happening when he said you were coming by,” she changed the topic, putting the pen down on the desk and Josh looked up at her face.

“He-” Josh paused, maybe it would be best if he didn’t say anything about Daniel being a bit of a busybody to her face. “Yeah, I just thought it would be something interesting to write about the street,” Josh said instead, the words tumbling out. He hadn’t really planned on how to word it or how to explain.

She picked up the pen again, but this time placed the tip of it against the notepad on her desk, and gave Josh a curious look.

“Tell me about it.”

So Josh told her, at first slowly but soon he got quite into it, he had always been able to almost rival Goody as the most talkative in the kitchen. So he told her a little bit about the restaurant, about Goody and him finding a purpose again with his restaurant; told her about Sam and the people frequenting his gym; how people on the street knew each other and were there for one another. And then he told her about the fair, how they were all preparing to show that the street wasn’t dead or not even dying, how they were still willing to fight for it to remain the same.

“Is that enough for a story?” Josh asked as he finished and watched how she noted down a few more things.

“Yes,” she said. “I will make some more interviews and write something up.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you for coming to me with this.”

“This wasn’t- I’m not reaching out or anything,” Josh said. “This is just- I have to do something for them.”

“I know,” she said, “You are very loyal to those you deem worthy. She raised you well.”

There was a sting in his chest, but he pushed it down and looked at her.

“She did,” he said, bowing his head slightly before looking at her again. She didn’t look anything other than accepting. Josh had always been angry with his father and she had been the collateral damage, she had known then that Josh wasn’t going to accept her and thus hadn’t tried, and truth be told Josh was happy she hadn’t tried, because he didn’t want her as a mother then and certainly didn’t need her to be one now.

“I will owe you for this,” Josh said, getting up from his chair, and she stood up too shaking her head.

“No, neither of us want that. I won’t ask anything from you.” She walked with him to the office door. “Take care of yourself Joshua.”

Josh nodded and left, walking out of there feeling somewhat lighter for having done it, and also because it had been so much easier than he had expected.

~*~~*~~*~

A week before the fair when Alejandro was heading back inside the restaurant - carrying take-away from Goody’s which Red had handed over saying Goody had forced Josh to take his weekend off - when he almost ran into a woman standing inside the door.

“Oh sorry,” Alejandro said at the same time as she said sorry as well.

“Do you work here?” She asked, her blonde hair in a ponytail and a heavy bag hanging from her shoulder.

“Yeah,” Alejandro said. She reached out a hand with a bright smile on her face.

“I’m Samantha Cole, I work at the local paper. I was hoping to speak to Billy Rocks.”

“He doesn’t really do interviews,” Alejandro said. “You could talk to Emma, he usually lets her handle all the conversations. Unless you want mostly one-word answers to your questions.”

She looked hesitant. Alejandro smiled at her.

“I’ll show you to Emma’s office. And if you still want to talk to Billy after I’m sure I can coax him into talking to you.”

She nodded and Alejandro took her to Emma’s office before going back to the kitchen.

“Who was that?” Billy asked reaching out grabby hands for the container of food Alejandro handed him. “I’ve seen her around on the street the past few days.”

“Journalist.” He watched as Billy took a fork full of jambalaya, and chewed it thoughtfully.

“Maybe I should talk to her,” he murmured after swallowing it down. Alejandro raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Really?” he asked. Billy bit his lip for a moment before looking down at his food.

“I don’t know, just seems important,” he muttered. “Although Emma is probably better at explaining anyway.”

“Maybe.”

Alejandro had started eating as well, but also pulled out his phone to text two thumbs up to Faraday, and a message saying _“met your step-mom. At least think it was her. Proud of you”_

He quickly received a response: _“Didn’t do it because of you asshole”_ and _“I don’t need your validation”_

He chuckled a little but stopped when he noticed Billy’s curious look.

“Nothing,” Alejandro said in answer to an unasked question.

They had finished eating by the time Emma entered the kitchen, Samantha Cole in tow.

“I just have one question,” she said after the introductions. “Why?” she asked. “Why are you getting involved to this degree when you’ve only been here a couple of months, and you would benefit from the change.”

Billy was silent for a beat and then said, “because I don’t want to be used this way. And it is the right thing to do.” He paused and then the smallest smile crept onto his face. “Besides, Goo- Robicheaux’s food is delicious, you really should try it.”

~*~~*~~*~

Goody put another plate in the dishwasher, trying to not think about the fair the next day, but it was difficult not to when it had been all they could talk about during the dinner. He had managed to convince almost everyone to leave him alone to clean up and for them to go home and sleep, but for some reason Billy had lingered, and for some reason Goody wasn’t thinking too hard about either, he hadn’t put much effort into trying to convince him to leave.

He was nervous and tense. A couple of days earlier an article had been published in the paper, detailing the plans for the fair, along with interviews with a bunch of people on the street, including a statement from Billy. Goody had wondered why he hadn’t been interviewed, but he wasn’t sure what he would say anyway, it was probably better this way.

He rinsed off the last plate and put it into the dishwasher, turning it on.

“I’m done sweeping,” Billy said coming inside the kitchen and placed the broom in the corner. While Goody started wiping down the counters.

“I’ve been thinking,” Goody said, moving on to the next counter. Watching from the corner of his eye how Billy jumped up on the counter Goody had just finished. It was surprising how comfortable and at ease they were with each other now.

“You think and worry too much,” Billy said. He probably had a point, but Goody didn’t want to admit to that.

“I’m thinking of getting a dog,” Goody said instead, even though he had barely been thinking about it, and it was more of a spur of the moment thought he tossed out into the world, like so many of his thoughts _“I think I’m going to become a boxer”_ , _“I think I’m going to start a Cajun restaurant”_ and then eventually making it happen.

“How are you going to have time for a dog?” Billy asked. “And don’t say you’ll bring it to your restaurant.”

“Why not?” Goody asked just to see the look on Billy’s face. Goody managed to keep his face straight for another moment and then broke out into a grin. “You look like I just offended your entire family.”

“I hope you realize you can’t bring a dog into the kitchen. That hat of yours should be the worst of your health violations.” Billy said and pointed at Goody’s head.

“What’s wrong with my hat?” Goody asked, realizing he’d stopped wiping the counters to have the conversation and went back to work while saying: “I’ll have you know nobody has ever complained about finding hair in their food.”

“That doesn’t mean its a substitute for a hairnet,” Billy said.

“Well, it works and I like it,” Goody said.

“Well, its ugly.”

“It’s not,” Goody protested. “And just so you know I am a fan of…” he trailed off, and stopped wiping as well. He knew Sam had mentioned the team name when he gave the cap to him, but it had slipped his mind, he wasn’t even sure which sport it might have been the team did. “Whatever the team is that’s using this logo,” he finished weakly. Glancing over at Billy who raised an eyebrow at him.

“At least don’t bring a dog into your kitchen,” Billy said.

“I was thinking more that I’d need the company if this whole plan doesn’t pan out,” Goody said. Billy looked over at him and said: “Don’t think like that.”

“Difficult not to,” Goody muttered looking down at the counter. It felt like this whole idea was fueled on nothing but hope and fantasy. Life isn’t a movie and the underdogs rarely win in reality.

“It’ll work,” Billy said. “The article probably helped a lot, and just, everyone has put so much effort into this. Including you.” Billy smiled a little when Goody looked up at him. “And then I guess if you absolutely must you can get a dog to celebrate.”

“Thank you for the permission?” Goody asked feeling slightly bewildered.

“You have to ask Sam if he can take care of it during the day though,” Billy added.

“Are you running my life now?”

“Someone should,” Billy muttered.

“I am very good at taking care of myself,” Goody said, even though it sounded a lot like a lie. Or at the very best a half-truth.

“I’m sure you are,” Billy said in a tone of voice that clearly said he didn’t believe Goody for a second, but Goody decided to ignore it. He finished the last counter and rinsed out the cloth he had been using before turning back to Billy again.

“Shall we go?”

Billy nodded and jumped off the counter.

“I hope there will be a crowd tomorrow,” Goody mumbled while locking up.

“There will be,” Billy said with conviction, and Goody wished he could believe him.

~*~~*~~*~

The street had been closed off to traffic which meant a lot of people walking down the road, dogs on leashes and children running back and forth screaming and laughing. All the small shops on the street had stalls outside, but there were also stalls run by people living on the street selling crafts they had made themselves. Besides the food trucks Billy had invited, there were stalls selling homemade lemonade, all along the street there were spots for residents to play music and sing. But even with the other food trucks there was a steady stream of customers coming to both Billy and Goody’s restaurants.

Billy was immensely grateful for the parasol, it had already been very hot outside around nine that morning, and now approaching noon it was becoming sweltering, the sun brutal in the clear blue sky. It was much better than rain though.

He filled another cup with gumbo, garnished it with a strip of lime peel and a blue flower before handing it to the next person in line, they had gathered quite a crowd to the make-shift set up outside of Goody’s restaurant. 

Next to where Billy was serving gumbo from a simmering pot Goody was deep frying the crawfish and lime croquettes. Billy had said he was going to think of something else for their one day only fusion, but with time constraints and the realization that perhaps small baby-steps was the way to go they had both settled on this menu.

Every now and again one of their customers would be a resident on the street and they’d all greet Goody cheerfully and tell him what a great idea this was. And Billy was reminded again of what he had noticed when they went around talking to everyone, just how well known and well liked Goody and his restaurant was. He’d catch fragments of conversations, jokes that only made Goody and whoever he was talking to laugh. Goody was personable, had a rapport with everyone who came to his place, Billy had had an inkling but this really cemented how integral Goody was to this street and all the people there.

He glanced over at Goody conversing easily with the waiting customers at the same time as he worked, hands steady and sure as he pulled out the croquettes from the boiling oil. A joke from one of the customers lost to Billy in the general sound of the crowds in the street but which Goody must have heard because his head tipped back a little bit as he laughed, and Billy almost forgot what he was doing, quickly looking back at his own task, but with the sound of Goody’s laugh so relaxed and carefree ringing in his ears.

They would hate him, he thought while ladling up another spoonful of the thick stew the heavy smell a mix between the cajun spices and the korean spices they had worked out for the best combination. 

Billy was nothing like Goody, he felt awkward in a lot of social situations; too quiet for his own good Vasquez had told him. His restaurant was nothing like Goody’s, he liked to think they both had their merits, and they did but Billy’s was new and different and people always needed time to get used to new. In time the people on this street would try out his place some would like it, some may not, he would get customers, even repeat customers. But for that he needed time and for them to not resent him and his restaurant, something they were sure to do if Goody closed down.

Which was why it had only seemed right he work hard to prevent it. Calling in every favor he could think of, staying up late organizing, getting permits, putting it all together, and now here they were serving food together while the crowd on their usually quiet street continued to grow and there was something warm growing in BIlly’s chest as he took it all in.

~*~~*~~*~

With the arrival of lunchtime Goody handed over the responsibility of the deep fryer to Teddy, and one of Billy’s line cooks came over letting Goody and Billy go back to their respective kitchens.

Goody sweated in the kitchen for a few more hours until Faraday reassured him he could go outside for a bit. He had gotten a glimpse of the fair earlier, and he was eager to see more of it, but reluctant to leave, even with the extra help hired just for the day. Eventually he let himself be convinced and he left the restaurant to check out the fair. 

Even though it was afternoon there was still a crowd, though it had thinned out a little bit. He was still very grateful for everyone showing up despite the warm weather. As he walked down the street he passed first a guy with a keyboard giving a decent rendition of John Legend’s All of Me, and once he was out of ear shot of him walked past another guitarist, but Goody had to admit he didn’t know the country song she was singing.

Outside Horne’s there weren’t any furniture standing on the pavement, but on the table stood various other wood work, everything from toys to candle holders to little figurines carefully carved and beautiful to look at. Goody stopped by and looked at it all and said hello to Horne. 

Across the street Leni Frankel had a table of different fabrics, embroidered pillows and tablecloths, and a clothes rack with different types of clothes on hangers wafting lightly in the breeze. Goody went by and said hello to her as well before he continued on, every now and again waving and calling out a hello whenever someone called his name.

The air was filled with voices and the smell of different kinds of food and Goody’s stomach rumbled a little reminding him that he was giving up having a snack in favor of walking down the street, but he had been too curious about the fair to miss it. He however wasn’t sure he had the time to stand in line to one of the food trucks, he could probably grab something quick when he got back to the kitchen. Instead he carried on, feet taking him forward until he reached Sam’s gym.

Very ambitiously a temporary ring had been constructed in the street outside the building and Sam’s proteges were showing off their skill to an enthusiastic group of onlookers.

Goody smiled and waved when Sam spotted him and walked over.

“I see you’ve gone AWOL,” Sam said with a smile clapping Goody on the back. “Did you get permission to leave?”

“It’s my restaurant,” Goody protested. Sam raised an eyebrow. “Faraday gave me permission.” 

Sam’s mouth quirked up into a half smile.

“How’s your day been?” Goody asked instead.

“Great, would have been better if you could spare my top fighter.”

“I needed him, I’m sorry,” Goody mumbled looking down at the ground. “He’s probably disappointed too.” He felt Sam squeeze his shoulder.

“No, don’t you worry about that. He insisted on helping out at your place.”

Goody looked over at the boxers in the ring.

“You want to have a go?” Sam asked, and when Goody looked back at him the man was smiling. Goody shook his head.

“Don’t want to bruise their egos this early in their careers.”

“Oh is that it?”

“And I should head back, can’t leave them alone for too long.”

“You’re lucky Faraday isn’t here, he would have insisted.”

“I know,” Goody said, and started walking. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll be by tonight.”

Goody started to head back, weaving between the people in the crowd. But he wasn’t far from the boxing ring when something stopped him in his tracks.

"Well, well, what do we have here," a voice Goody hadn't heard in a long while suddenly spoke up behind him. Goody turned around slowly, a cold shiver going down his spine.

“Bogue,” Goody said with a sinking heart. If it had been bad seeing McCann in Goody’s restaurant it was nothing to seeing Bogue standing there in front of him, on his street, _his refuge_. Even though he had known it was Bogue behind everything it hadn’t quite prepared him for seeing the man again. Memories flitting past in his mind of Bogue’s office, of the cold stares he had gotten, harsh words flung his way; memories of the pain he’d endured after he refused to take the fall in the fight like the agreement, when Bogue had silently stayed seated behind his desk watching his men showing Goody with fists and booted feet what happened to those who defied Bartholomew Bogue.

Anger flared up in his chest making his heart beat faster and his stomach clench, all he could feel was anger and pure hatred just seeing his face. All the past injustices coming back, all the anger Goody had done his best to bury and forget about because he had just wanted to move on, leave it in the past and start new. 

“Goodnight Robicheaux, it’s been awhile.” Bogue smiled but it was cold and fake.

“What are you doing here?” Goody asked, forgoing pleasantries, he wasn’t going to fake small talk with this man. If Bogue noticed Goody’s hostility he didn’t react much to it, looking around at the bustle and crowd moving around them.

“There is no law banning me from looking around is there,” Bogue asked. Goody glanced towards where he’d left Sam and saw him being steered inside his gym by McCann and another man, a knot gnawing in his stomach.

“It’s all going to be mine soon anyway.”

Goody glared at Bogue.

“Do you really think any of this will make any difference?” Bogue sneered. “This is nothing more than a last hurrah before the inevitable end you know. You can’t impede progress.”

Anger burned in Goody’s chest, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to manage to not punch the man, the urge to just throw his fist into the other man’s face was like a persistent itch and he kept clenching and unclenching his hand rhythmically.

“You call kicking people out of their homes, robbing them of their livelihoods progress?” Goody asked.

“Who have I kicked out?” Bogue asked, with a faked innocence that grated on Goody, and he wondered if he would actually be able to restrain himself, or if he’d end up causing a scene.

“If they can’t pay the rent then surely they should move to somewhere they can better afford.”

“The rent you raised to twice as much as they had been paying before, how is that not kicking them out?” Goody asked.

“I’ve done nothing wrong in the eyes of the law.”

Goody snorted. “Well that is a blatant lie and we both know it.”

“Why here,” Goody continued. “All your other business have always been in Nevada, and even if you are looking to branch out, this,” and he waved a hand around them, “doesn’t seem like the most logical place. So I have to ask. Why are you doing this on my street?”

“Your street? Aren’t you a little full of yourself,” Bouge said, still with a sneer on his face.

“Well, prove me wrong then. You were done with me, and yet here you are. Awfully big coincidence is it not?”

“You seem to be under the misconception that I was done with you after you disappointed me. But you see,” and he leaned in closer, Goody had to force himself to not back away, “people who sign with me aren’t just allowed to walk away from me. Nobody turns their back on me and runs off with their tail between their legs and head bent. No I will wring every single drop of sweat and blood from their bodies, until all they say is thank you and what an honor it has been to serve me. When I am done with people they crawl away to some forgotten corner and die.”

Goody closed his eyes and bent his head unconsciously. That same weakness from before, when he had spotted McCann in his restaurant. All the fight leaving him.

“Fine, if your problem is with me then take it out on me, not on the rest of the street.” He swallowed hard. “Let them keep it, and I’ll close down my restaurant.” He knew he was essentially begging, but what else could he do?

“The hell you will!” Another voice suddenly shouted. Goody’s head shot up and he looked to his side where Billy came marching towards them. He wondered when he had showed up. He also noticed a few other people were watching curiously from the sidelines, but his attention focused back on Billy again.

“Billy?” Goody said, surprised, not just at his sudden appearance, but also the intensity and anger on his face.

“Mister Rocks,” Bogue said. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Of course it does,” Billy protested naturally. “This whole street became my concern when I moved here.”

“But there is certainly no need to side with the past, with this moribund street.” Bogue said. Goody almost wanted to point out that he’d only been there for two years, but he kept silent. Bogue continued.

“You can become rich here once I’ve cleaned up this place.”

“I have never done what I do for money,” Billy said, firm conviction in his voice. “And I am not going to start now.”

“Billy,” Goody said. “Billy, it’s just a restaurant.” Even though it made his chest hurt saying that, because of course it was more than _‘just a restaurant’_ so much more. But what was one restaurant compared to everyone else on a whole street?

“If I can save everyone by closing down, then I can do that.”

“No,” Billy said looking Goody straight in the eyes and shaking his head.

“Now you heard him…” Bogue started, but he was interrupted.

“No,” Billy said, looking at Bogue while he said it, but then turned to Goody again.

“No,” he said, voice softer. “You are the heart of this street Goody. It won’t... Can’t be the same without you, I’ve seen that.” He paused for just a second. “Besides we both know these kinds of men. He will maybe put a halt to his plans if you shut down, but he will start them back up again eventually.”

Bogue let out an annoyed noise.

“I should make some money off this project,” he said with a sneer. “At least something to make up for the bribes. Not that they needed much in way of bribes, they practically gave away the street to me.”

“And all the lives you are ruining mean nothing to you,” Goody said, it wasn’t phrased as a question, merely as statement, a judgement. But Bogue wasn’t affected, and took it as a question.

“Compassion is for the weak and unambitious.”

Billy stood close enough to Goody that their arms brushed, and Goody thought about all that Billy had done in preparation for the street fair, and the strength that had been flagging inside of him at just the sight of Bogue, was starting to be rekindled.

“I guess I just don’t subscribe to your worldview,” Goody said.

“And that’s why he’s done with you,” Billy spat at Bogue, and then to Goody said in a soft voice again, and Goody would be offended by the softness, but he didn’t feel offended instead there was just more of the strength he was getting from Billy.

“You are done with him,” Billy said, “no matter what he’s trying to say now, you walked away. He’s the one who made you throw all those matches and then left you to shoulder the blame when he walked away with the money. But he has no hold over you any longer.”

“He had years left on his contract,” Bogue said. “He shouldn’t have gotten caught he let me down.”

“So is petty revenge all that you are good for?” Billy sneered at Bogue who leaned in closer to Billy, who didn’t flinch.

“I am also extremely good at getting rid of nuisances,” Bogue snarled. “You have made a mistake siding with him instead of me.”

Goody couldn’t let him threaten Billy like this, not when Billy was providing him with strength, and he stepped in front of BIlly and in his most commanding voice said:

“I think this conversation is over.” He stared Bogue in the eyes.”I’d like you to leave now.”

“Nobody ever tells me what to do,” Bogue snarled.

Goody started to turn away from Bogue.

“And no one turns their back on me!”

Goody turned just in time to see the fist flying towards his head, but he didn’t even have to dodge it, because suddenly Billy was pushing Bogue away and threw him up against the side of the boxing ring.

“You want to fight?” Billy said, almost a growl. “Want to fight him for real? Then get in this ring and have a fair match.” Goody marched towards them, and felt a hint of satisfaction at the way Bogue’s face blanched underneath his hat.

Bogue pushed away Billy and took a couple of steps aside.

“This won’t be the last you’ll see of me,” he snarled and slunk off into the crowd which let out a slightly disappointed groan and not getting to see them fight.

“I can handle myself,” Goody said, a sting of annoyance at the way Billy had stepped in there at the end.

“There is a reporter over there with a cameraman,” Billy said, looking at Goody and shrugging one shoulder in the direction of the now dispersing crowd. “I think they've gotten most of what was said, hopefully they can even include him trying to punch you. That should make a better story than the two of you having a brawl in the middle of the street.” He sighed and looked at the ring. “I wasn't really preventing you from fighting though, I was hoping that he'd take up the offer and I'd get to see you punch his smug face.”

Goody couldn’t quite stop himself from smiling.

“He was much more of a coward than I thought,” Billy said, and at this Goody laughed. Billy looked at him, a smile playing on his lips, and a sparkle in his eyes. 

Before either of them could say anything else, a woman’s voice interrupted them.

“Goodnight Robicheaux.”

Goody turned towards her and her outstretched hand.

“I’m Samantha Cole, and I work at the paper, and I have some questions.“

“Um,” Goody said, a little surprised. “About what?”

Next to him Billy made a noise like he was trying to hold back a laugh. Goody thought the guy who had hired another person specifically to talk to reporters for him had no right to judge.

“About your history with Bogue for one thing,” she said.

“Uh, well, I don’t really like talking about it,” Goody said. She smiled and it was surprisingly disarming.

“We can start by talking about the fair and work our way up to it,” she said. Goody spotted Sam coming towards them over her shoulder. He looked like he was ambling up, but the length of his strides betrayed his hurry.

“Can it wait?” Goody asked. “I kind of need to get back to the restaurant,” Goody said.

“Of course,” she said. “I will come by later tonight.” She smiled. “It's been a lovely fair so far that you’ve arranged mister Robicheaux, mister Rocks.”

She walked away just as Sam reached them.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“Bogue happened,” Goody said.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Fine,” Goody said, not wanting Sam to fuss too much. “He left and nobody was hurt at all, though I kind of wish I had punched him in the face.”

“Probably better this way, he’d slap you with a lawsuit souring your satisfaction.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Goody muttered. “I need to get back to the restaurant.”

Sam nodded and then shot a look at Billy, who nodded at him. Goody decided to ignore them and start walking instead. Billy fell into step with him.

“You don’t have to walk me back,” Goody said.

“We are heading in the same direction anyway,”

“Oh, right, yes,” Goody said, then: “But if you were checking out the fair you didn’t have to cut it short because of me.”

“I was looking for you,” Billy said.

Goody’s step faltered in surprise and he glanced at Billy.

“Me? Why?”

“Not important, I’ll tell you later,” Billy said with a wave of his hand. “Do you want something to eat?” he asked as they walked past one of the food trucks. They weren’t far from their restaurants and Goody was about to say he’d just get something back at his place, but Billy was already in line before Goody could open his mouth. 

He stood there waiting while people passed him by, mind going back to Bogue again and that small hint of anxiety gnawing away at the pit of his stomach he zoned out for a bit, brought back again when a warm burrito wrapped in foil was thrust against his chest and he grabbed it.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Billy said. Ducking his head seeming uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden, and Goody couldn’t tell why.

Someone bumped into Billy and he stumbled a little. Goody reached out and put a hand on his shoulder steadying him. Billy looked up at him slowly; his shoulder warm under Goody’s hand.

“Thanks,” Billy mumbled, and glanced at Goody’s hand and he pulled it back.

“You know,” Billy said, looking Goody in the eyes again. “Everything is going to be fine eventually.” And it wasn’t that he sounded extra confident, or putting emphasis on his words to convey conviction, but it was said in such an offhand casual manner like he had just stated that the sky was blue that made Goody believe him and a wave of calm wash down his chest and settle in his gut, stilling the anxiety.

Goody smiled and he saw it reflected on Billy’s lips as well, before he ducked his head once more.

“We should get going,” Billy said and Goody nodded.

“We should.”

They started walking again and parted ways outside their restaurants.

~*~~*~~*~

Goody was tense and a little bit jumpy when he came back to the kitchen, the complete opposite from how Josh had expected him. But he soon figured out why as Goody explained while finishing up dishes along with Josh.

“You should have punched him,” Josh said to Goody. Handing a plate of catfish to one of the waiters Goody had hired just for the day.

“I probably should have,” Goody mumbled where he was stirring the pot of extra roux. “But if he shows up here I’ll know what to do.”

Josh spent most of the day in the kitchen, except for a short stint outside to take care of the croquettes and gumbo, while Teddy grabbed something to eat, and it wasn’t until quite late in the afternoon and the beginning of the evening when Josh could grab some time to walk around and take a look at the fair. The crowd had diminished quite a lot from what he had heard reported from everyone else, but there were still people walking around.

He made his way down the street slowly, stopping to speak to some of the people who regularly came by the restaurant, all of them telling him happily about what a great day they’d had, how busy they’d been.

He returned to the restaurant with a bounce in his step and noticed two things walking through the door: first that the place was almost empty save for a couple of regulars in one of the booths, and second at another table he saw his step-mom sitting opposite Goody. Josh stopped close enough to hear them talking.

“If you want to tell me about your scandal, I could probably restore your reputation,” Samantha said.

“It’s the past,” Goody said and Josh wanted to go up to him and insist he tell her everything. “I’m more concerned with my reputation as a restaurant owner and the future of this street.”

Josh opened his mouth but before he could say anything he was grabbed and dragged into the kitchen by Red.

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop,” Red said.

“You do it all the time,” Josh pointed out.

“Fair point,” Red said with a shrug and hopped up on one of the counters.

“So what did I miss?”

“Apparently there’s going to be an expose published, she started digging into Bogue and found something clearly, though she didn’t go into details with Goody,” Red said. Josh perked up at this, something like hope growing in his chest, but he also couldn’t let it go that Red clearly only knew because he had listened in on the conversation.

“And you found this out without eavesdropping?”

“Of course.” He said brightly. “I happened to accidentally overhear them as I brought out food to the other table,” Red said and shrugged. “Can’t help that I have better hearing than all of you old guys.”

“You’re not that much younger,” Josh said.

“But I am younger.”

Josh gave him an annoyed look. Red grinned. Josh took a deep breath and then exhaled in a sigh.

“I wish he’d tell her the real story about quitting boxing.”

Red craned his head to look through the window in the door.

“They are still talking so perhaps she’s convinced him.”

Josh hummed a little, thoughtful.

He could keep himself somewhat busy in the kitchen, starting the clean up since it was close to closing time and they had so few customers left. It wasn’t much later when Goody entered the kitchen, and when he did the last customers left as well.

“So?” Red said, eager, but Goody shook his head.

“We’ll see what happens,” he said. Josh kind of wanted to badger him with more questions, but at the same time he knew he should probably say something to his step-mom. So he excused himself and hurried out of the restaurant.

“I just wanted to,” he said when he caught up with her. “I wanted to say thank you,” he really was grateful to her. For writing the first article which had undoubtedly brought more people to the fair, and now this digging up dirt on Bogue, planning on exposing him. “For doing all of this,” he added.

“It’s the right thing to do,” she said, like that was enough reason.

“Yeah, but still. Thanks.”

“I’m happy you have something you are passionate about. Passionate enough to fight for.”

Josh looked down at the ground. Not sure what else there was to say.

“Daniel told me he came by the restaurant earlier today, but you were so busy he didn’t want to interrupt.”

“He could have,” Josh mumbled. “It’s fine.”

“I’m very thankful he has had you in his life.”

“You’re happy he’s had a massive screw up as his half brother?” He looked up at her in surprise. And he wasn’t expecting the smile on her face.

“Don’t sell yourself short Joshua, you have grown up into a surprisingly responsible young man.”

There was a lump in his throat and a tightness in his chest and he looked away again.

“Yeah, well, thanks again. For doing all of this.”

“It’s always a pleasure to help take down crooked businessmen.”

Josh chuckled before they parted and he headed back to the restaurant.

“I am beat,” Goody said when Josh returned to the kitchen. Goody was leaning against the counter, holding a hand in front of his mouth as he yawned.

“Too tired for dinner?” Red asked and Goody nodded. Josh had to admit he was feeling rather tired himself.

“Then if you don’t need me for clean up I’ll head to Sam’s and see if he needs any help.”

“Yeah, run along,” Goody said. “And tell him he’s invited for dinner tomorrow.” His brow furrowing. “I guess we’ll see then if we have something to celebrate.”

“We will,” Josh said, choosing to believe it, wanted to be optimistic. “I think we really managed to bring more attention to the shops here on the street, and if the article is published then,” he paused. “We should be optimistic.”

Josh and Goody cleaned up as fast as they could and went outside to lock up at the same time as Billy and Vasquez left their restaurant.

“I’m going to get going,” Goody said to Josh and turned to Billy just as they reached their side of the street. “Care for some company?”

“Sure,” Billy said with a shrug. The two said good night and left, leaving Josh and Vasquez alone on the sidewalk underneath the street light. Josh watched the two walk away side by side, and Josh shook his head a little smiling to himself.

“Can you believe how oblivious they are?” He asked Vasquez and looked over at him, grinning a little. Vasquez mouth quirked into a crooked smirk and raised an eyebrow.

“They are not the only ones oblivious,” Vasquez said. Josh frowned and tilted his head to the side in confusion.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Vasquez said with a short chuckle and started walking backwards away from Josh. “See you tomorrow Faraday.”

Josh had no idea what just happened and Vasquez turned around and walked away leaving Josh standing there alone feeling slightly confused as to what Vasquez had meant.

“Weirdo,” he mumbled, but he did hear the fond tone of voice he’d accidentally slipped into when he said it. He smiled to himself before he started walking home, whistling as he walked.

~*~~*~~*~

Goody had been tired closing up the restaurant, but walking side by side with Billy, a cool breeze in the night air he no longer felt as tired - though he knew as soon as he laid down he would probably fall asleep, it had been an eventful day.

“So many people showed up,” Goody said. “I wasn’t sure anyone would show up, much less a crowd that size.”

“The article certainly helped,” Billy said and Goody nodded.

“There’s going to be another one.”

“You talk to the reporter?”

“Mhm,” Goody mumbled. It had been on his mind the final few hours before closing. She had started digging into things she said, she had sounded optimistic. “Either tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.”

“Good,” Billy said.

“Still wish I had punched him though.” 

He’d eventually told the reporter his side of the story, wasn’t sure why really, it was the past and he had moved on, but he’d glanced at the corner booth, the pictures and news clippings and thought about Faraday telling him when he’d hired him that Goody had disappointed him, but he thought they could maybe try working together anyway. If he let out the truth then surely it would have been understandable if he punched Bogue in the face. Although the problem with the truth had always been that it would be Goody’s word against Bogue’s, the reporter could find evidence of Bogue’s shady business dealings, but clearing Goody’s name, it wasn’t as easy.

“You are metaphorically punching him by preventing him from taking over the street?” Billy suggested, and Goody looked at him, there was a hint of a smile on his lips. Goody snorted and shook his head looking away again.

“Sure. A metaphorical punch. Not as satisfying to be honest.”

“That’s because it hasn’t landed yet,” Billy said, in a tone of voice usually reserved for sage wisdom and not nonsensical statements about metaphorical punches.

“Whatever you say,” Goody said, feeling himself start to smile. 

He glanced at Billy his hair pulled up into a messy bun, but a lock of hair had been missed and hung down his forehead, and a few other strands of dark hair had managed to slip free. There was a teasing tilt to his mouth, and his eyes glittered in the light from the street lamps. Goody felt like there was something warm and heavy in the pit of his stomach, squirming and his heart beating harder for a moment, as if trying to make him notice. And he wondered how much longer he could try and ignore this feeling and not acknowledge it.

He looked away from Billy’s face, the more he looked at it the harder it became to ignore the feeling in his chest. They lapsed into silence for a bit as they walked. But Goody had never been good with silences.

“I’m so grateful for all of your help by the way,” Goody said, and glanced at Billy who ducked his head.

“Don’t mention it.”

“I think I should mention it though,” Goody said, his voice softening. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble on top of running a restaurant, and yet you did, you called so many people who showed up.”

That was it wasn’t it, watching Billy putting in so much effort, being invested, caring, that’s what had fueled that feeling in his chest, nudged it from idle attraction to a handsome face into something like actual feelings simmering around his heart making it clench a little bit at the way Billy had lit up during the whole preparations, always ready with words of encouragement and Goody didn’t know why he’d always believed him when he said it would work out, but he had. At some point he had begun trusting Billy, had grown to like him.

He could see the intersection in front of them where they would part ways and he had to finish his thanks before then.

“You didn’t have to come along when we visited all the businesses on the street, or the fusion food. You’ve invested so much time into this and you are definitely a huge factor into why maybe in the end all of this might work out and even if it doesn’t I am grateful and I wanted to say tha-”

A hand on his arm interrupted him and he was spun around to face Billy. Before he could react a mouth was pressed against his insistently, their noses bumping for a second. Goody instinctively leaning into the bruising kiss, eyes falling close on their own as they tilted their heads slightly to make it easier to press their mouths together. Billy nipping lightly on Goody’s bottom lip and heat flared up in Goody’s stomach. By the time Goody’s brain had caught up with what was actually happening - Billy Rocks was kissing him. He was kissing Billy Rocks - Billy broke the kiss and Goody’s eyes flew open to see Billy take a step back. Goody lifted a hand to his own tingling lips and watched Billy, unable to say anything.

“I wanted to see if it was possible to shut you up,” Billy said and shrugged. But there was something tense about his posture, standing a few steps away but still within arms reach, eyes glittering in the light of the street lamps, sharp cheekbones darkening with a slight flush.

“This is where we part for now,” Billy said, taking another step back, but he held eye contact with Goody, and there was something like a challenge in them; and Goody wasn’t very good at backing down from a challenge.

“Good night,” Billy said, but before he could leave Goody reached out and grabbed hold of Billy’s arm and pulled him back against his chest. Tilting his head he kissed Billy, closing his eyes once again and sinking into the feeling of another pressed close to him and soft lips yielding under his.

Billy pushed Goody’s hat off his head and ran his fingers through Goody’s hair. Goody sighed softly into Billy’s mouth, shivers going straight down his spine from his head. Goody gripped Billy’s upper arms, surprisingly well toned and firm with muscle; while Billy linked his arms behind Goody’s neck, and Goody’s hands naturally fell to Billy’s waist.

Goody opened his eyes, long enough to see where he was going as he pushed Billy up against the lamp post, before closing his eyes again, groaning into Billy’s open mouth as the kiss deepened. A rush of warmth blooming in Goody’s chest and he felt like he was vibrating on the inside.

This was crazy, they were making out against a lamp post on a sidewalk where people could see them. He could never have predicted that this is where their first meeting would lead to; soft lips moving against his, strong arms around his neck and soft sighs and panting breaths shared between them.

After a little while when the first burning need had lowered to a simmer they both slowly broke the kiss leaning their foreheads together for a second, catching their breath and Goody took a step back and looked at Billy. He was staring at Goody, wide eyed and surprised, licking his lips.

“I just wanted to see if it was possible to ruffle your composure,” Goody said.

“Well, consider it ruffled,” Billy said, voice hoarse.

Goody bent down and picked up his hat, brushing it off to have something else to look at.

“We should talk about this,” Goody said, his heart still beating fast, hands trembling slightly.

“Probably,” Billy said. “But it can wait.”

“Can it?”

“Until we know what’ll happen with the street.” 

Billy might have a point Goody thought, but they had just been standing there kissing and not here Billy was putting on his composure like a well worn jacket. While in Goody’s mind the kiss was playing on a loop.

“This way you’ll have something to distract you from worrying about Bogue.”

“An excellent distraction I must say,” Goody said. “You are a lot more clever than I first thought.”

“I walked away from our first meeting with half a swordfish. This should not be the first time you notice that I am clever.”

Goody was putting on his hat again and was just about to reply when Billy took a step away.

“Good night,” he said and started walking away.

“Billy,” Goody called after him and Billy spun around, almost eagerly, and Goody’s heart fluttered for just a second at the way he looked at Goody.

“Good night,” Goody said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiled and Billy smiled back before turning and walking. Goody stood there and looked after him until he turned a corner.

~*~~*~~*~

“Look at this!”

Alejandro was just about to walk into the restaurant the morning after the fair, when he was accosted by Faraday who must have been waiting for him to rush across the street and shove a newspaper into Alejandro’s face. He caught a glimpse of a headline about Bogue and bribes and corruption in city hall, before Faraday opened the newspaper to the actual article and a large photo of a man Alejandro was going to assume was Bogue throwing a punch at Goodnight’s face.

“She exposed him,” Faraday said, and Alejandro looked up at him seeing the wide grin on his face. “Everything, the bribes, the shady dealings, there’s even a bit about Goody and what Bogue did to him.”

“This is amazing,” Alejandro said pulling Faraday into a one armed hug. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with Goody though? Or i don’t know, work?” he grinned.

“We already celebrated,” Faraday said, “but I saw you across the street and figured I should tell you.”

“This is really amazing though,” Alejandro said and looked down at the article again. “She must have worked all night digging everything up.”

Beside him Faraday nodded, still with Alejandro’s arm around his shoulders.

“You serving celebration dinner at your place tonight?” Alejandro asked.

“I assume so, you and Billy should come,” Faraday said.

“I will see you then,” Alejandro said and headed inside to tell Billy about the article.

~*~

The lunch rush was almost as busy as it had been the previous day and there were a ton of little tasks to perform, and small fires - both metaphorical and literal - to put out in the kitchen. But by afternoon the crowd had left and Alejandro was mostly looking through the windows trying to gauge how busy they were across the street so that he could walk over and pick something up for him and BIlly to eat, but he didn’t want to head over if they were still busy. It looked like they’d had more guests, probably a lot of people in a celebratory mood after the news.

He had almost decided that it looked like things had calmed down over there and he could probably head over, when he saw a large black SUV stop outside the restaurant. Three men stepping out of the car and entering Goody’s.

Moments later they came outside again, two of them with Goody between them as they walked, and they weren’t dragging Goody, weren’t even touching him, but there was definitely something reluctant about the way he was walking.

“Billy!” Alejandro called out, while he watched the third man stop in the doorway, leaning against it to keep it closed. A fourth man stepped out of the car and Alejandro recognized him from the picture of Bogue.

“Billy!” he shouted again and Billy appeared next to his elbow staring out the window, cursing under his breath when he saw Goody led into the alley beside the restaurant, Bogue following them.

Billy headed towards the door, and Alejandro needed less than a second to decide to follow him.

~*~~*~~*~

Goody was pushed against the wall none too gently by McCann and the man Goody didn’t know the name of, a new guy he thought. Then Bogue stepped into his line of sight, face a mask of barely restrained anger, but Goody could feel his own anger flaring in his chest.

“Shouldn’t you be questioned by the police by now,” Goody sneered.

“You should have just crawled away into a hole,” Bogue snarled.

“I didn’t even really do that much,” Goody said. “You brought most of this on yourself.”

The slap on his cheek was so sudden and hard Goody’s head snapped to the side and he scraped his other cheek against the rough concrete.

Goody faced Bogue again, glaring at him.

“Liars and cheaters who break the rules don’t get away with it,” Goody said, even though he knew how rarely it was true, but just this once he wanted the world to work that way. Bogue snarled and gripped Goody by the collar.

“That is not how this works, I am going to break every bone in your body and then I will…”

He was interrupted by another voice.

“What’s going on here?”

Billy asked, and Goody looked towards the mouth of the alley were Billy and Vasquez were standing. 

Bogue let go of him head turned to look towards Billy and Vasquez, but Goody had only spared them a glance and stared back at Bogue. This was the man who had ruined his dream and attempted to ruin his life once more because he was a petty vindictive bastard unable to let go. 

All Bogue cared about was money and spreading misery. Didn't even hesitate to ruin the lives of everyone on the street. Goody remembered the first time he had realized the kind of man he had signed his contract with, and his resignation when he realized there was no way out, that he was tied to the man who gleefully told him as much when Goody tried to leave the first time.

Goody hated him, rage burning in his heart; he remembered the feeling of standing in the ring, the adrenaline - not so much the excitement - but the confidence he had felt in himself and his talent. Drawing on it and taking advantage of the others' distraction he clenched his hand into a tight fist and started raising it.

“Bogue”, he said, and the other man turned to look at Goody. Cold eyes lacking in anything close to feelings; and for half a second Goody almost faltered under a wave of self loathing because hadn’t he himself walked away from the compassion and caring he had been given by Sam and instead walked into Bogue’s cold and impersonal office. He had made that choice. _“You didn’t know,”_ he told himself. _“You were young.”_ And Bogue had taken advantage of Goody’s youth and how easily impressionable he had been. And with that in mind he pulled himself together again, recovering his resolve and the anger flaring back to life.

“Fuck you!” Goody shouted. 

Before Bogue could react Goody's fist slammed with all his power; all his pent up rage and the feelings of injustice, straight into Bogue's face. It was a with a sense of calm rightness, and immense satisfaction as he felt Bogue's nose break against his fist.

Bogue's head snapped back and then whipped forward again, his eyes wide in surprise and amazement that someone had actually punched him, and the look on his face had a warm sense of satisfaction spreading in Goody's chest.

Bogue lifted a hand to his bleeding nose still looking like he couldn't quite believe what had happened, and Goody was about to push him away when McCann and the other man grabbed Goody's arms in bruising grips and pushed him hard against the wall.

Billy and Vasquez rushed towards him at the same time as he could hear others running and from the other side of him and he looked towards Red and Faraday running from the back door of the restaurant.

“The police are on their way!” Faraday shouted.

“Let go of me,” Goody growled at the men holding him. The stranger let go pretty fast but McCann held on a moment longer but in the end he let go as well.

All of them, including a couple of the guests from Goody’s restaurant who came out to see what was happening, managed to restrain Bogue and his men until the cops showed up to take them away. Once they were gone Billy pulled Goody aside; hand warm and tight around Goody’s wrist not letting go as he gently prodded at Goody’s cheek with his other hand, and Goody couldn’t tear his eyes away from Billy’s concerned expression.

“You okay?” Billy asked, hand dropping slowly from Goody’s cheek, but he was still holding onto Goody’s wrist.

“Yeah,” Goody said and smiled. “I got to punch him after all.”

“That you did,” Billy said with a small smile letting go of Goody, and Goody wished he hadn’t. He’d been so distracted by the news he’d finally stopped thinking about the previous night, but now it rushed back and his eyes dropped to Billy’s mouth; he knew how it felt now, how it tasted.

“We still need to talk,” Goody said, but right then Vasquez called out for Billy holding two wrapped sandwiches as he exited Goody’s restaurant.

“I’ve got lunch, we really have to head back now.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” Billy said. “We’ll talk. After dinner.”

Goody was going to hold him to that.

~*~~*~~*~

Dinner that night at Goody’s was loud and cheerful, everyone smiling and laughing as they ate and talked. It was a celebration and finally after so long they all felt like they could relax, knowing that things were going to work out.

They were seated around one of the larger tables rather than in a cramped booth, the table filled with more dishes than usual because they were celebrating. The food was as always delicious and while he felt full Billy kind of didn’t want to stop eating, both because of the taste but also because of the mood in the room. While he didn’t contribute much he liked listening and watching them all, sharing in their happiness. He also kept glancing at Goody across the table from Billy, the man had one of the most captivating smiles and whenever he caught Billy looking there would be a glint in his blue eyes. Billy caught Goody glancing at him several times as well, and unable to stop himself from smiling each time it happened.

Leaning his head in his hand Billy turned to look at Vasquez sitting next to him and talking animatedly with Faraday seated next to Goody, pretending to listen to them for a bit. Billy stretched out his leg under the table until his foot reached Goody’s leg, he ran his foot slowly up the side of Goody’s calf. Goody flinched, hitting his knee on the table and the sound had everyone looking at Goody for a moment.

“Nothing,” Goody mumbled, and everyone went back to their conversations. Billy looked at Goody and smirked. Goody made a face and then Billy felt Goody’s foot against his own leg, and Billy couldn’t help it when his smile grew feeling pleased. They needed to talk, but Billy was feeling optimistic that it would be a good talk.

Once all the food had been finished off people started leaving one after the other. Red and then Emma and eventually Sam; in the end Faraday and Vasquez threw out Goody and Billy, Vasquez winking suggestively as he looked between Billy and Goody, and Billy wondered what his friend was suspecting about them.

They walked in silence for a bit, until they could no longer see the restaurants.

“So we kissed last night,” Goody said.

“We did,” Billy said. They had stopped walking and were standing there on the pavement looking at each other. And looking at Goody Billy knew exactly what he wanted. “Want do it again?”

Goody was silent, eyes widening a bit, and Billy could see him take a deep breath and breath out a “yes” voice sounding almost desperate.

Billy closed the distance between them, pushing Goody gently up against the wall of the building, and surged towards him Goody meeting him halfway and then they were kissing again. Billy’s hands fisted in Goody’s shirt, and he felt Goody’s hands settle on his waist as Billy pushed himself closer to Goody.

“You-” Goody started between kisses “drive me abso-” Billy bit Goody’s bottom lip lightly and Goody gasped in the middle of his word “-lutely” Goody bit Billy’s bottom lip in retaliation. “Crazy.”

“Same,” Billy panted into Goody’s open mouth.

Goody grabbed Billy’s belt loops and pulled Billy closer, one leg on each side of Goody’s side, so that Billy’s crotch dragged deliciously along Goody’s thigh and Billy groaned, shivers going through his body and heat pooling in his gut.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” Billy whispered against Goody’s lips, red and puffy from the kissing and Billy licked along Goody’s bottom lip.

“Yes,” Goody mumbled, hands stilling Billy’s hips where he had been grinding against Goody’s thigh. “We should talk.”

“Or,” Billy said pressing a kiss under Goody’s ear making him shiver against Billy. “We can talk after.”

“After?” Goody asked. “After what?” 

Billy leaned back to look at him before reaching down with one hand and cupping Goody’s half hard cock through his jeans.

“Oh,” Goody breathed out.

“Come home with me,” Billy whispered.

“Yes,” Goody answered.

~*~~*~~*~

“Want a drink?” Vasquez asked once the others had left.

“I don’t drink,” Josh said.

“I know,” Vasquez said, voice going lower and he smiled. “This is coke.”

Josh huffed out a short breath but smiled when he got a better look at the bottles, and they were indeed two glass bottles of coke.

“Yeah, alright,” he said. And they climbed the stairs to the rooftop.

“Can you believe it actually worked?” Vasquez said, and took a drink from his bottle before closing his eyes and letting out a breath as he tipped his head back, looking relaxed and peaceful. And Josh didn’t realize he’d taken too long staring at Vasquez face until the other man opened his eyes and quirked an eyebrow in question at Josh who looked away taking a drink from his own bottle.

“You thought it would be a disaster?” Josh asked.

“No, of course not, I believed we’d pull off the fair, but I didn’t want to put too much hope into everything turning out the way it has.”

“It did turn out pretty perfectly didn’t it?” Josh asked with a grin and looked back at Vasquez. All day Josh had felt lighter, a huge weight had been taken off of his chest and he’d been able to breathe easy again.

“It did,” Vasquez said and grinned back at Josh and they lapsed into silence for a while and it wasn’t until Josh had almost finished his bottle that he spoke up, breaking the silence again.

“What did you mean by the way,” he started, watching Vasquez who was looking away. “When you said Goody and Billy weren’t the only ones oblivious.”

Vasquez turned his head to look at Josh, eyebrows and corners of his mouth quirked, something about his expression telling Josh he probably thought Josh was the dense one, and…

“Oh.” Maybe he had been oblivious. It felt like something fluttered unexpectedly in his stomach, delighted surprise rushing through him as he started smiling. “You’re way too subtle for me.”

“I realize that,” Vasquez said, his tone warm and fond and Josh’s spine tingled with warmth. “Do you want to have dinner with me?”

“Like a date?” Josh grinned. Vasquez tilted his head from side to side.

“Maybe.”

“We’ve already had dinner though,” Josh said.

“It’s your weekend off coming up isn’t it?”

“You really _are_ asking me out.”

Vasquez shrugged, but Josh noticed how he suddenly looked tense, body and expression slightly frozen.

“It doesn’t have to be a date,” Vasquez said and Josh could tell he was forcing himself to not look away.

“You gonna cook for me?” Josh asked with a grin. To which Vasquez raised his eyebrows.

“If you want.”

“Alright, show me what you got.” Josh smiled which made Vasquez smile back at him, and Josh realized he was rather curious to see where this all would lead.

~*~~*~~*~

Goody was late. He had never been late before, and he knew it wasn’t a habit he should start having. As soon as he stepped through the door to the restaurant Faraday came marching up to him from the kitchen.

“Where have you been?” he asked pointing at Goody, and sounding not a lot unlike a mother scolding a child.

“Uh,” Goody let the door close behind him.

“You’re late!” Faraday continued. “You’re never late,” he said. He didn’t exactly sound worried, or if he was trying to sound worried he didn’t really succeed. “It’s your restaurant, you can’t be late.”

“Sorry.”

“I’ve been calling and calling but no answer,” Faraday said.

“My phone ran out of battery,” Goody said, which was true enough.

“Where have you been?” 

He had never gone home the previous night, had stayed at Billy’s place. After, they had talked and talked. First about this thing between them, about dating, and then it had moved on to other subjects talking about their lives and neither of them had been ready to sleep, just wanting to keep talking to each other, it had been the most enjoyable night of Goody’s life.

“Where could I have been,” Goody protested.

“Well, I don’t know Goody, but if you had been home you would have had a charger for that drained phone battery.”

Goody bit back a grimace and thought quickly.

“I stayed over at Sam’s.”

“You left here with Billy,” Faraday pointed out, he was clearly holding back a smirk or a grin apparently taking great delight in this situation. “How did you end up at Sam’s?”

“Um…”

“Besides you’ve never stayed over at Sam’s before,” Faraday said and added: “Plus he lives on this street. You should have been here the earliest.”

“Okay, okay,” Goody muttered. Faraday let loose his delighted grin and Goody shot him an annoyed look. “Fine, so I didn’t stay over at Sam’s.”

“Obviously.”

“And I may not have gone home.”

“Also obviously.”

Faraday’s grin was positively shit eating by this point and extremely annoying.

“So, did you go to Billy’s place?” Faraday asked, trying, and failing, to turn his expression into something more innocent.

“How did you know?”

“We all knew dude.”

Goody groaned. “I clearly was the last one to figure this out.”

Faraday nodded.

“Pretty much,” he said. “That kind of antagonism, it was either going to end with you two fucking or killing each other. I’m glad you picked fucking,” he paused, expression turning serious, “though you don’t have to share the details.”

Goody sensed the perfect opportunity and gave Faraday his own best shit-eating grin and said: “I don’t know. Billy did this thing with his tongue I think you’d want to hear about.”

Faraday’s expression fell and his hands shot to cover his ears as he started chanting “lalalala” and hurried towards the kitchen.

Goody laughed, joy blooming in his chest. He was happy and it was an amazing feeling. A feeling that lasted well after lunch when he, carrying two po’boys, headed up the stairs to the rooftop where Billy waited for him, and they sat down ate their lunch talking and laughing in between bites and quick stolen kisses on sun warmed skin. And Goody’s heart beat a little faster whenever he watched Billy’s face break into a wide smile.

And once they were back at work Goody thought that despite their rocky start perhaps they could make it work because it was so easy to spend time with Billy.

 

**Epilogue**

The last customers of the evening had left, as had most of the personel. Billy was still in the kitchen wiping down the counters when Emma entered the kitchen, a frown on her face.

“The flowers are gone,” she said. Billy’s hand stopped and he looked at her.

“Gone?” he asked, wondering if he had heard her wrong.

“We were supposed to get a delivery tonight, but we have no flowers. And when I called the delivery company they said that they definitely delivered the whole batch to us.”

Billy blinked a couple of times and then sighed heavily. Leaving the towel he had been using he walked past Emma.

“I’ll deal with it,” Billy said.

“You don’t think that-” Emma started, and Billy chuckled.

“No, that is exactly what I am thinking,” he said. Though really he thought they had stopped doing these things. They had been dating for weeks now.

He walked across the road, and into the restaurant. Heading straight for the kitchen where he only found Red bent over a box he was unpacking.

“Hey, Red do you know anything about any flo-” he started when Red pointed at the back door.

“Out back,” Red said in a tone of voice that clearly said he didn’t think he was paid enough for his boss’ eccentricities.

“Thanks.” Billy waved and walked through the door.

“Really, Goody, I thought we’d stopped…” Billy stopped talking and walking. There in the alley next to Goody stood a bathtub filled with flowers.

“Happy one month anniversary,” Goody said, and pointed at the bathtub. Billy raised an eyebrow.

“Are we really going to celebrate every month?” Billy asked. “Because I didn’t really remember it, and I am sure I will forget next month as well.”

“Hurtful,” Goody said but he was grinning and looking generally amused.

“Also, giving me flowers I bought and you stole from me isn’t really a gift now is it?”

“Well, the flowers are just to make it pretty,” Goody said. “I am giving you the bathtub.”

Billy blinked a couple of times letting his brain process this. He hadn’t expected this when they started dating, and yet it seemed to make perfect sense for Goody to gift him with a bathtub full of flowers.

“I have a bathtub,” Billy said. “You know that, you’re the one who insisted we’d both fit in it last week.”

“You’re the one who suggested we should take a bath together,” Goody protested.

“What am I going to do with a second bathtub?” Billy asked.

“Well, you can never have too many bathtubs,” Goody said. Which was a ridiculous statement to someone living in an apartment, he had no space for an extra bathtub. Goody seemed to have thought of that after all as he continued: “Once you’ve earned enough money to buy a house you might need two.”

“I like my apartment,” Billy said. “And it won’t fit there.”

“Or you could put it in your restaurant, filled with flowers like this I am sure it could be some kind of avant garde art piece.”

Billy sighed, but he couldn’t help smiling at the way Goody was smiling and walking up to him, wrapping his arms around Billy, Billy wrapped his arms around Goody and let him kiss him.

“Are we really going to celebrate every month?” Billy asked after the kiss.

“Probably not,” Goody answered with a smile. “I just wanted to give you something because I love you.”

“I love you too,” Billy whispered. “Even when you are weird and give me a bath full of stolen flowers.”

“Are they really stolen if I was always planning on giving them back?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, okay. Well, speaking of love.”

“Yes,” Billy said, leaning back a little in Goody’s arms to look into his face.

“Can I stay at your place for a couple of weeks, maybe a month?”

“Sure,” Billy said. “Of course you can, but what’s wrong with your apartment?”

“Well, there was an incident. Involving five terriers left alone too long, and somehow, don’t ask me how because I didn’t believe it when I was told either, they turned on the faucet and shower and once the water started collecting on the floor, well one thing led to another. Water damage. My ceiling falling in. I had to replace my bathtub and now both mine and my neighbors apartment need to have the bathrooms renovated.”

“Wait, back up,” Billy said. “You said your bathtub?” Billy looked around Goody at the flower filled bathtub. “Is that your old bathtub?” Billy asked.

“Maybe,” Goody said, failing to look innocent. Billy sighed but he was reluctantly amused as well and struggling not to smile.

“How did I end up falling in love with you?”

“My irresistible charm,” Goody said confident. Billy gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

“Yes, of course.”

In the end the bathtub did end up in the middle of Billy’s restaurant - after having made Goody clean it extensively - the two of them with the help of Red and Faraday had carried it inside, filling it with fake flowers and plants. When Vasquez and Emma asked about it he chose not to answer and instead deflected the question. He was sure Vasquez would eventually find out through Faraday anyway.

“Maybe I should have chosen to become an interior designer,” Goody murmured. Wrapping his arms around Billy where he was standing behind him in Billy’s empty restaurant, looking at the flower filled bathtub.

“You’d be terrible at it,” Billy said.

“Why must you hurt me?” Goody asked, resting his chin on Billy’s shoulder.

“We wouldn’t have met had you not opened your restaurant,” Billy pointed out turning his head to kiss Goody’s cheek.

“Good point,” Goody said. “I kind of want to take a bath now.”

“In flowers or water?”

“Doesn’t really matter I suppose,” Goody said.

“Come on, let’s go home. I have a perfectly sized bathtub.”

“Its cramped,” Goody pointed out. Billy turned in his arms and grinned.

“That’s why it’s the perfect size,” Billy said.

“Ah,” Goody said with a smile. “Alright then, let’s go home.”


End file.
